He returned the letter as the waitress brought their food.
"Wouldn't it be nice to take a trip home?" Hazel suggested
thoughtfully. "I'd love to."
"We are going home," Bill reminded gently.
"Oh, of course," she smiled. "But I mean to Granville. I'd like to go
back there with you for a while, just to--just to--"
"To show 'em," he supplied laconically.
"Oh, Bill!" she pouted.
Nevertheless, she could not deny that there was a measure of truth in
his brief remark. She did want to "show 'em." Bill's vernacular
expressed it exactly. She had compassed success in a manner that
Granville--and especially that portion of Granville which she knew and
which knew her--could appreciate and understand and envy according to
its individual tendencies.
She looked across the table at her husband, and thought to herself with
proud satisfaction that she had done well. Viewed from any angle
whatsoever, Bill Wagstaff stood head and shoulders above all the men
she had ever known. Big, physically and mentally, clean-minded and
capable--indubitably she had captured a lion, and, though she might
have denied stoutly the imputation, she wanted Granville to see her
lion and hear him roar.
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