"Of course." She made an effort at recovery. "I only meant to say—what's the use of raking up things that are over?"
"Rake up? That's the idea, is it? Was that why you tried to cut me last night?"
"I—oh, Elmer! I didn't mean to; only, you see, I'm engaged."
"Oh, I saw that fast enough. I'd have seen it even if I didn't read the papers." He gave a short laugh. "He was feeling pretty good, sitting there alongside of you, wasn't he? I don't wonder he was. I remember. But I don't see that that was a reason for cold-shouldering me. I'm a respectable member of society now—I'm one of Harmon B. Driscoll's private secretaries." He brought out the fact with mock solemnity.
But to Undine, though undoubtedly impressive, the statement did not immediately present itself as a subject for pleasantry.
"Elmer Moffatt—you ARE?"
He laughed again. "Guess you'd have remembered me last night if you'd known it."
She was following her own train of thought with a look of pale intensity. "You're LIVING in New York, then—you're going to live here right along?"
"Well, it looks that way; as long as I can hang on to this job. Great men always gravitate to the metropolis. And I gravitated here just as Uncle Harmon B. was looking round for somebody who could give him an inside tip on the Eubaw mine deal—you know the Driscolls are pretty deep in Eubaw. I happened to go out there after our little unpleasantness at Apex, and it was just the time the deal went through. So in one way your folks did me a good turn when they made Apex too hot for me: funny to think of, ain't it?"
Undine, recovering herself, held out her hand impulsively.