“You know he did.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I’m not a mind-reader.”
A waitress came and took our orders. I noticed her looking around the dining-room. “Worried?” I asked.
“About what?”
“Whether Charlie will see you dining with me before you have a chance to tell him that it was a business assignment the boss gave you.”
“Who’s Charlie?”
“The boy friend.”
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
“I don’t know any Charlie.”