"Yes," she said; "but I—I got to get used to bein' here—bein' here without Angie—oh!"
"Come now—the carriage is downstairs yet, and there's a little bakeshop, with a table in the back, over on Twentieth Street. If you'll let me take you over there it'll fix you up fine, and then I'll bring you back; and by that time your friends'll be here, and it won't be so lonesome-like."
She rose to her feet.
"I wanna go," she said. "I don't wanna stay here."
"That's the way to talk!" he said, smiling and showing a flash of strong, even teeth. "We'll fix you up all right!"
She looked up at him and half smiled.
"You're so nice to me and all," she said.
He felt of her coat-sleeve between his thumb and forefinger.
"Ain't you got somethin' warmer? It's gettin' cold, and you'll need it."
"Yes; but not—not mournin'."