"I wanted to know," explained she. "I'm very ignorant, and I've got to learn."
"That's right," said John, admiringly—with a touch of condescension. "Don't be afraid to confess ignorance."
"I'm not," replied Susan. "I used to be afraid of not being respectable and that was all. Now, I haven't any fear at all."
"You are a queer one!" exclaimed John. "You oughtn't to be in this life."
"Where then?" asked she.
"I don't know," he confessed.
"Neither do I." Her expression suddenly was absent, with a quaint, slight smile hovering about her lips. She looked at him merrily. "You see, it's got to be something that isn't respectable."
"What do you mean?" demanded he.
Her answer was a laugh.
Fatty declared it too cold to chase about afoot—"Anyhow, it's late—nearly eleven, and unless we're quick all the stores'll be closed." The waiter called them a carriage; its driver promised to take them to a shop that didn't close till midnight on Saturdays. Said Fatty, as they drove away: