“Not tired, but bothered,” said Jack, stretching out his legs.
“I know,” she replied; “it's a bothering world.” She was still behind him, and spoke low, but with sympathy. “I remember, it's only one lump.”
He could feel her presence, so womanly and friendly. “I don't care what people say,” he was thinking, “she's a good-hearted little thing, and understands men.” He felt that he could tell her anything, almost anything that he could tell a man. She was sympathetic and not squeamish.
“There,” she said, handing him the tea and looking down on him.
The cup was dainty, the fragrance of the tea delicious, the woman exquisite.
“I'm better already,” said Jack, with a laugh.
She made a cup for herself, handed him the cigarettes, lit one for herself, and sat on a low stool not far from him.
“Now what is it?”
“Oh, nothing—a little business worry. Have you heard any Street rumor?”