Winn rose quietly and looked down at her. He was glad he was half a head taller; still he couldn’t look very far down. She caught at the corner of her lip with a small white tooth. He tried to make a look of sternness come into his eyes, but he felt guiltily aware that he wanted to give in to her, just as he wanted to give in, to Peter.
“Of course,” he said, gravely, “I had no idea it was your table when I got it from that tow-headed fool. You must take it at once, and I’ll make him bring in another one.”
“He won’t,” said Claire. “He says he can’t; Herr Avalon, the proprietor, won’t give him another; besides, there isn’t room.”
“Oh, I think he will,” said Winn. “Shall I go over and bring your brother to you? Won’t you sit down?”
She hesitated, then she said:
“You make me feel as if I were being very rude, and I don’t want to drive you away. Only, you know, the other people here are rather awful, aren’t they?”
Winn was aware that their entire awfulness was concentrated upon his companion.
“Please sit down,” he said a little authoritatively. Her brother ought to have backed her up, but the young fool wouldn’t; he stood shamefacedly over by the door. “I’ll get hold of your brother,” Winn added, turning away from her. The waiter hovered nervously in their direction.
“Am I to set for the three, sir?” he ventured. Claire turned quickly toward Winn.
“Yes,” she said; “why not? If you don’t mind, I mean. You aren’t really a bit horrid.”