On the instant Vandover wondered what she could mean. Was it possible that Ida would go to a place like that with him?
"The Imperial?" he answered. "Oh, I don't know; the Imperial is a sort of a nice place. It has private rooms, like all of these places. The cooking is simply out of sight. I think there is a bar connected with it." Then he went on to talk indifferently about the kindergarten, though his pulse was beating fast, and his nerves were strung taut. By and by Ida said:
"I didn't know there was a bar at the Imperial. I thought it was just some kind of an oyster joint. Why, I heard of a very nice girl, a swell girl, going in there."
"Oh, yes," said Vandover, "they do. I say, Ida," he went on, "what's the matter with going down there?"
"The Imperial?" exclaimed Ida. "Well, I guess not!"
"Why, it's all right, if I'm with you," retorted Vandover, "but if you don't like it we can go anywhere else."
"Well, I guess we will go anywhere else," returned Ida, and for the time the subject was dropped.
They took a Sutter Street car and got off at Grant Avenue, having decided to go to Marchand's.
"That's the Imperial down there, isn't it?" asked Ida as they reached the sidewalk. Vandover made a last attempt:
"I say, Ida, come on, let's go there. It's all right if I'm with you. Ah, come along; what's the odds?"