"Who wants to live in one room, anyway?"
"It's really two rooms—and the kitchenette. There's the living room—perfectly darling—and a sort of combination breakfast room and kitchen. The breakfast room is partitioned off with sort of cupboards so that it's really another room. And so handy!"
"How'd you know?"
"I went in—just to look at them—with one of the girls."
Until then he had been unconscious of her guile. But now, suddenly, struck by a hideous suspicion—"Say, looka here. If you think——"
"Well, it doesn't hurt to look at 'em, does it!"
A week later. "Those kitchenette apartments on Sheridan are almost all gone. One of the girls was looking at one on the sixth floor. There's a view of the lake. The kitchen's the sweetest thing. All white enamel. And the breakfast room thing is done in Italian."
"What d'you mean—done in Italian?"
"Why—uh—Italian period furniture, you know. Dark and rich. The living room's the same. Desk, and table, and lamps."
"Oh, they're furnished?"