"Still living on the Boulevard Saint-Germain?"
She nodded.
"Number forty-three?"
He was glad he was able to remember that number.
"Number sixty-four," she corrected.
They had been moving toward the Metro station, and here she paused.
"There is no need for you to come with me," she said. "But I'd like to have you drop in for tea some afternoon—if you have time."
The strangers were still hurrying past him—to the north, the south, the east, the west. Men and women were hurrying past, laughing, intent upon themselves, each with some definite objective in mind. He himself was able to smile with them now. Then she held out her gloved hand, and he felt alone again.
"I may accompany you home, may I not?" he asked eagerly.
"If you wish."