John Henry Menton, how grand we are this morning. He might have said thank you instead of nothing. As if I turned him into stone. Hates me. Hate at first sight. A guy doesn’t like to be beaten spectacularly at anything. But in front of women, well. And Molly and Floey Dillon laughing under the lilac tree didn’t help. The root of his dislike. Mortified him. He did nothing but stare with those oyster eyes until Martin, helpful, also told him your hat is a little crushed. He thanked Martin. Never mind. He’ll be sorry when it dawns on him. Get the pull over him that way. Leave him under an obligation: costs little.