Norman kept his eyes down to hide from her the legion of devils of jealousy. "You have changed," he said.
"I'm growing up," replied she with a charming toss of her small head—what beautiful effects the sunlight made in among those wavy strands and strays!
"And you're as lovely as ever—lovelier," he said—and his eyes were the eyes of the slave she had spurned.
She did not spurn him now—and it inflamed his jealousy that she did not. She said: "Oh, what's the good of looks? The town's full of pretty girls. And so many of them have money—which I haven't. To make a hit in New York a girl's got to have both looks and dress. But I must be going. I've an engagement to lunch—" She gave a proud little smile—"at the Astor House. It's nice upstairs there."
"With Bob Culver?"
She laughed. "I haven't seen him since I left his office. You know, Mr. Tetlow took me with him—back to your old firm. I didn't like Mr. Culver. I don't care for those black men. They are bad-tempered and two-faced. Anyhow, I'd not have anything to do with a man who wanted to slip round with me as if he were ashamed of me."
She was looking at Norman pleasantly enough. He wasn't sure that the hit was for him as well as for Culver, but he flushed deeply. "Will you lunch with me at the Astor House at one to-morrow?"
"I've got an engagement," said she. "And I must be going. I'm awfully late." He had an instinct that her engagement on both days was with the same man. "I'm glad to have seen you——"
"Won't you let me call on you?" he said imploringly, but with the suggestion that he had no hope of being permitted to come.
"Certainly," responded she with friendly promptness. She opened the shopping bag swinging on her arm. "Here is one of my cards."