She laughed too. "You must have been reading poetry since I left you!"
"No, that came out of my head. But I've been thinking a whole lot. About a good many things—only most of them were about you, or came back to you if they didn't begin there. Don't you know how one idea can sort of run through all your thoughts?"
"I know," said Angela. Just so had the idea of him been running through all her thoughts these last few days. "But," she added with an effort, "why should you have been thinking of me? We're such—new friends."
"Yes," Nick admitted, "but you can't always account for your thoughts."
"Of course not. And I'm grateful for a few of yours. Have you been enjoying San Francisco? Do sit down. And would you mind putting on the electricity?"
"Must I? It's beautiful like this."
"Very well. Leave it so."
She sat on a sofa, still with her back to the window, and Nick took a chair facing the light.
"I've had a feeling on me of waiting," said Nick. "Just that. I haven't gone around much, though this is the first time I've been in San Francisco, except for a day, since the city's grown up after the fire. I was waiting to see if you'd let me show you things, as you——"
"As I—what?" Angela asked, when he paused.