. A,
Vergil Gunch was rather brief in his answers.

Afterward Babbitt was not angry. He was afraid. He did not go to the
next lunch of the Boosters' Club but hid in a cheap restaurant, and,
while he munched a ham-and-egg sandwich and sipped coffee from a cup on
the arm of his chair, he worried.

Four days later, when the Bunch were having one of their best parties,
Babbitt drove them to the skating-rink which had been laid out on the
Chaloosa River. After a thaw the streets had frozen in smooth ice. Down
those wide endless streets the wind rattled between the rows of wooden
houses, and the whole Bellevue district seemed a frontier town. Even
with skid chains on all four wheels, Babbitt was afraid of sliding, and
when he came to the long slide of a hill he crawled down, both brakes
on. Slewing round a corner came a less cautious car. It skidded, it
almost raked them with its rear fenders. In relief at their escape the
Bunch--Tanis, Minnie Sonntag, Pete, Fulton Bemis--shouted "Oh, baby,"
and waved their hands to the agitated other driver. Then Babbitt saw
Professor Pumphrey laboriously crawling up hill, afoot, Staring owlishly
at the revelers. He was sure that Pumphrey recognized him and saw Tanis
kiss him as she crowed, "You're such a good driver!"

At lunch next day he probed Pumphrey with "Out last night with my
brother and some friends of his. Gosh, what driving! Slippery 's glass.
Thought I saw you hiking up the Bellevue Avenue Hill."

"No, I wasn't--I didn't see you," said Pumphrey, hastily, rather
guiltily.

Perhaps two days afterward Babbitt took Tanis to lunch at the Hotel
Thornleigh. She who had seemed well content to wait for him at her flat
had begun to hint with melancholy smiles that he must think but little
of her if he never introduced her to his friends, if he was unwilling to
be seen with her except at the movies. He thought of taking her to the
"ladies' annex" of the Athletic Club, but that was too dangerous. He
would have to introduce her and, oh, people might misunderstand and--He
compromised on the Thornleigh.

She was unusually smart, all in black: small black tricorne hat, short
black caracul coat, loose and swinging, and austere high-necked black
velvet frock at a time when most street costumes were like evening
gowns. Perhaps she was too smart. Every one in the gold and oak
restaurant of the Thornleigh was staring at her as Babbitt followed her
to a table. He uneasily hoped that the head-w