“I felt kind of like I was in church,” Danny said to Mary Louise afterwards when telling her of the occurrence.
“And so you were,” she had replied. “Somehow the Divine which is within all of us is more apparent to the naked eye in Irene than in any one else I know. And where God is, there is his Church.”
When Irene looked around and saw the two young men, she was devoutly glad she had powdered her nose. Irene did have much of the Divine within her but she also had enough of the feminine to wish to appear at her best when good looking young men suddenly came upon her.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “How do you do, Danny?”
“I do finely except that I am starving and I can’t eat until you consent to come eat with us. This is my friend Mr. Dulaney, Bob for short. And, Bob, this is our best friend, Miss MacFarlane, Irene for all times.”
“How do you do, Bob for Short?”
“And how do you do, Irene for all Time?”
He took the lame girl’s hand in his and looked earnestly in her eyes. The skillful use of the vanity case did not deceive him. He saw in her eyes that she had been suffering, and that not many minutes before. Powdering her nose had not thrown dust in his eyes if it did fool Danny. He saw and understood. The calm peace of her brow he felt was but a camouflage worked by an indomitable will to conceal the anguish of soul the poor girl must often have suffered. His gaze was so kind that Irene felt she had made a new friend.
“Will you go?” asked Danny. “Lunch in the shop awaits us.”
“But I can’t get up stairs,” faltered Irene. “You see, there is no elevator.”