“Oh, I am not dressed for it!”
“You are dressed all right, Miss Dugan. It is early yet, and the swells will not be out for some time. I hardly think we shall provoke ridicule by our dress. Will you come?”
“Oh, I’ve thought I’d like to go there, but I’ve never had a proper escort, and——”
“Can you make that excuse now?”
“I didn’t mean that, but—but—what will you think?”
It was rather remarkable for her to care what anybody thought, as Frank realized, even though he had known so little of her; therefore her fear lest he should think badly of her was a decided compliment to him, for it told that she wished to stand well in his eyes, at least.
“Miss Dugan, under the circumstances, I see no reason why we should be extremely conventional and proper. We’ll stop at Shanley’s.”
He signaled to the driver, who opened the little trap-door in the top of the hansom and looked down, whereupon Frank told him where to stop.
Merry assisted Hilda to alight, paid the driver and escorted her into the brightly lighted restaurant. A colored man opened the door for them, bowing as they passed in. They paused before entering the dining-room for a boy to brush from Frank’s clothes some dust still clinging there.
Merry chose to sit in a retired corner where they would not be prominent, yet where they could command a good view of the room. Hilda had asked him not to take a table near the front windows. She seemed to fear that some one might observe and recognize her from the street.