He had assured her of this, and she began to think it might be so.
The supper followed the program. This was not enjoyed by Patty. Usually, after a dance or concert, she was hungry for some light refreshment, but in this incense-laden, smoke-heavy atmosphere, she felt no desire to eat, and had she done so, she could not have relished the viands. For they were of highly-spiced and foreign-flavoured sorts, and their principal ingredients were smoked fish, pungent sauces, and strong cheese, all of which Patty detested. Moreover, the service was far from dainty. The heavy china, thick glass, and battered, unreal silver detracted still further from the appetising effects of the feast.
But everybody was so genuinely distressed at Patty's lack of appetite and made such to-do about it, that she forced herself to eat, and even essayed a cup of their muddy, syrupy coffee.
And she enjoyed herself. She absorbed much of their jargon and stored it up in her brain for future use. She unconsciously adapted herself to their mannerisms and whimsical enthusiasm, and when she went home everybody praised her and declared her one of them and the best of them.
"By far the best," said Blaney, as he tucked her into the Fairfield limousine which, with an accompanying maid, had been sent for her. "And may I call soon, and reiterate this,—in better and longer lines?"
"Yes, do," said Patty. "I'd love to have you."
Nan was waiting up for her.
"Well, I've seen your new friend?" she said, as Patty flung off her wrap and stood for a moment by the library table.
"Yep," said Patty, smiling, "and sumpum tells me, Nan, that you're going to be disagreeable or disapproving or disappointed or dis—something or other about him. And I beg of you to don't,—at least until I get a bite of supper. I couldn't eat their old delicatessen shop stuff, and I want a decent sandwich and a glass of milk,—so I do."
"Why, you poor child! I'll get it for you. Cook has gone to bed, but
I'll forage in the pantry."