Joan nodded, her eyes bright with understanding. She had not expected him to share her feeling for the old house, or to be so sensitive to the influence of environment. She walked still slower. It was too bad their talk should come to an end just as it was showing signs of life.
"Were you born there?" she asked craftily.
"Oh, no. No, I don't know just where I was born. On the road, I reckon. You see my mother was an actress—"
But despite her lagging feet they were by this time at the Darcy door, which was promptly opened by an attentive parlor maid.
"I'm so sorry I can't ask you in," said Joan.
"No, indeed!—I didn't expect that," answered humble Archie.
Joan frowned. It may be recalled that humility was one of her dislikes.
"It's just that I happen to have an engagement for the evening," she explained; for in Louisville fashion she portioned out her free nights among certain admirers who are known in the vernacular as "fireside companions"—gentlemen who for reasons of poverty, or thrift, or especial devotion, do not offer the ladies of their choice any other form of entertainment than their company. Only on Sunday afternoons are the youth of a Southern city free to call unheralded and en masse on girls with any pretensions to popularity.
Joan explained this custom to Archibald, remarking with an encouraging smile, "So you see if you really want to talk to a girl alone, your only chance is to engage an evening in advance."
"I see," said Archie.