Without apparently taking the slightest interest in him, Miss Winthrop observed the rapidity with which he concluded his lunch. She knew something about being hungry, and if she was any judge that tidbit produced no more impression upon this six-foot man than a peanut on an elephant.
“That all you’re going to eat?” she demanded.
Don was startled. The question was both unexpected and pointed. He met her eyes––brown eyes and very direct. The conventional explanation that he had ready about not caring 39 for much in the middle of the day seemed scarcely worth while.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Broke?” she inquired.
He nodded.
“Then you ought to have had an egg sandwich instead of one of those things,” she informed him.
“But the one you had looked so good,” he smiled.
“I had an egg sandwich to start with; this was dessert.”
“I didn’t know,” he apologized.