(xx) Piercing Blue Eyes

Well, sir, the evening meal has been over only a little while, as our scene opens now, and here in the living room of the small house halfway up on the next block we find Mr. and Mrs. Victor go.

Vic is established in his easy chair with the newspaper, and, say, industriously donning socks on the Davenport, thinks idle thoughts. And at this moment, happening to clients of her husband and noting something arresting about his facial expression, she says, after a season of close scrutiny, Do you need glasses?

Big pardon, Dr. Slichor. You're squinting so. Got your face screwed around like a cork school. I bet you need glasses. No, I don't think so. Did you realize you were twisting your eyebrows and person up the corners of your mouth?

Yeah. What's the idea? Oh, nothing. Mmm. Paper states they had a sharp thunderstorm and hope they arrested the afternoon. Huh? Brewed down 15 telegraph holes outside my near. We got the tail end of that.

Uh-huh. Speaking of Hopedale, did you know Ms. Apparot was a Hopedale girl? Uh-uh. I never needed her till today. And she's lived in half a dozen towns around Hopedale. They'll often stand for Nethsager and several others.

Her papa was an agent for a veterinary supply house. Horse medicine and such stuff. A very well-to-do man, Ms. Elders was telling me. Own five farms in McLean County. You're doing it again. I'm doing well again.

in your face around. Did it improve my face any? No. It doesn't give me an authoritative look. Doesn't elicit a feeling of respect and deference? No. OK. What's this now? Oh, nothing. A nice section of the country around Hope Dale and Delavan, a half-seagery there.