"You were just an unhappy boy," she said, as if thinking aloud, "with all life before you and many friends to back you up."
"And you," he suggested, "are just an unhappy girl with all life before you. I don't know anything about your friends, but I'll wager you've got a lot of them."
She shook her head.
"Not one," she said, slowly. "I mean, not one I dare to call on, now."
"I like that! You've got me to call on, right here."
This time she really smiled at him. It was a pathetic little smile, but both lips and eyes took part in it. He waited, but she said no more. He began to fear that his confidence had been given to no purpose. Evidently she had no intention of making a confession in return. He resumed his attack from a new angle.
"You've been disappointed in something or some one," he said. "Oh," as she made a gesture, "don't think I'm belittling it! I know it was something big. But the finish you chose wasn't meant to be, or it would have come off. You see that, don't you? The very sun in its course took pains to show you to me in time to stop it. That means something, Miss Mayo."
She seemed slightly startled.
"It is Miss Mayo, isn't it? That's the name the elevator boy gave me, yesterday."
"It will do." She spoke absently, already on the trail of another thought. Suddenly she caught it.