From the moment, the day before Christmas, when Graham had taken the
little watch from his pocket and fastened it on Anna's wrist, he was
rather uneasily aware that she had become his creature. He had had no
intention of buying Anna. He was certainly not in love with her. But he
found her amusing and at times comforting.

He had, of course, expected to lose her after the unlucky day when
Clayton had found them together, but Dunbar had advised that she be
kept on for a time at least. Mentally Graham figured that the first of
January would see her gone, and the thought of a Christmas present for
her was partly compounded of remorse.

He had been buying a cigaret case for Marion when the thought came to
him. He had not bought a Christmas present for a girl, except flowers,
since the first year he was at college. He had sent Delight one that
year, a half-dozen little leather-bound books of poetry. What a precious
young prig he must have been! He knew now that girls only pretended to
care for books. They wanted jewelry, and they got past the family with
it by pretending it was not real, or that they had bought it out of
their allowances. One of Toots' friends was taking a set of silver fox
from a man, and she was as straight as a die. Oh, he knew girls, now.