Page:Aaron's Rod, Lawrence, New York 1922.djvu/39

 smiling a little vacuously and showing his odd, pointed teeth.

"Where's the beer?" he asked, in deep tones, smiling full into Josephine's face, as if she were going to produce it by some sleight of hand. Then he wheeled round to the table, and was soon pouring beer down his throat as down a pipe. Then he dropped supine again. Cyril Scott was silently absorbing gin and water.

"I say," said Jim, from the remote depths of his sprawling. "Isn't there something we could do to while the time away?"

Everybody suddenly laughed—it sounded so remote and absurd.

"What, play bridge or poker or something conventional of that sort?" said Josephine in her distinct voice, speaking to him as if he were a child.

"Oh, damn bridge," said Jim in his sleep-voice. Then he began pulling his powerful length together. He sat on the edge of his chair-seat, leaning forward, peering into all the faces and grinning.

"Don't look at me like that—so long—" said Josephine, in her self-contained voice. "You make me uncomfortable." She gave an odd little grunt of a laugh, and the tip of her tongue went over her lips as she glanced sharply, half furtively round the room.

"I like looking at you," said Jim, his smile becoming more malicious.

"But you shouldn't, when I tell you not," she returned.

Jim twisted round to look at the state of the bottles. The father also came awake. He sat up.

"Isn't it time," he said, "that you all put away your glasses and cigarettes and thought of bed?"

Jim rolled slowly round towards his father, sprawling in the long chair.

"Ah, Dad," he said, "tonight's the night! Tonight's some night. Dad.—You can sleep any time—" his grin widened—"but there aren't many nights to sit here—like this—Eh?"

He was looking up all the time into the face of his father, full and nakedly lifting his face to the face of his father, and smiling fixedly. The father, who was perfectly sober, except