A boot shop came next in order, where I had a jealous pang as one of the salesmen fitted her with various articles in his stock, all suitable for a warm climate, at a total cost of forty dollars. And then we drove about, from glove shop to perfumer's, from umbrella maker to fan dealer, from this to that, and the hands on my watch showed that it was nearly five o'clock.
"I think that is about all for to-day," said Miss May, drawing a long breath. "You must be glad it's over."
"Not at all," I replied. "Isn't it about time, though, that we had something in the way of refreshment?" (She had declined several offers to lunch during the preceding five hours.) "Mayn't I tell the driver now to take us to a restaurant?"
She consented, after a little thought, and also said she would leave the place to me. When I suggested the Hotel Martin, she thought a little longer, and then surprised me with a request that I would get a private room.
"Impossible," I said, when I could catch my breath. "They will assign no party of two to a room alone."
She blushed, which was not surprising. I had put her in the position of wishing to break a puritanic rule of which she had never heard.
I mentioned several other places, and we finally agreed on one some distance up-town, at which I told her the regulation against a single couple dining alone did not apply. She was rather tired and leaned back in the carriage in a manner that showed it. I studied her face as much as I could without appearing to stare, but it was wholly expressionless.
"You are very good to me," she said, after a long pause.
"And you are very kind to me," I answered.
"What a lot of money we have spent to-day," she added. "Aren't you sorry yet?"