So warm at times did their dissensions wax that the sales-girl
following would smile and point out something before unseen, hoping a
mutual surrender would accept the compromise, and presently she
brought up a cash register and held it toward Laine.
"Most children like these," she said, "and as your wife doesn't care
for the mechanical toys--"
Laine turned away. With pitiless reality the play of it all came
over him, and he walked off lest the sudden surging of his blood be
heard.
"But I'm not his wife." Claudia's voice was cool and even. "He
doesn't know the children he is getting these things for, and I do.
But Channing would like this register, Mr. Laine. And Dorothea told
me she wanted a drawing-table like that one over there. Have you
bought Dorothea's present yet?"
Laine came back. "Only books. Her mother gets the other things for
me. If she'd like that, get it."
Out of his voice had gone all spirit, and Claudia, noticing, looked
up. "You're tired, aren't you? I think we'd better stop."
Laine laughed. "Tired? No, I'm not tired. I'm having a great time.
Playing make-believe is a good game. I haven't played it lately, and
I was doing it rather hard. I wonder what that bunch of people are
over there for? A number of children seem to be among them.
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