“Oh, I see,” she said more gently. “That’s hard luck.”
“It makes a good deal of a difference,” he said.
“I know.”
It had made a difference in her life when her father died.
She turned to her éclair; but, as she was raising the fork to her lips, she caught his eyes and put it down again.
“Look here,” she said; “you must eat something. You can’t get along without food. I’ve tried it.”
“You!” he exclaimed.
“Indeed, yes.”
“Dieting?”