You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. ” Just then the man’s eyes opened. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school.
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