She turned and again searched him slowly with her gaze, smiling a little.
"How long have you been in New York?"
"Oh, ages—almost two months."
"And in that time," she said quizzically, "the Faun has learned the habit of saloons and cigarettes. You've progressed, haven't you?"
"Oh, I say, Una. That's not quite fair. I don't make a habit of saloons, and a cigarette once in a while doesn't hurt a fellow if his wind and heart are good."
"And are your wind and heart good?" she asked with her puzzling smile.
"Now you're making fun of me. You always did though, didn't you? You know it's awfully fine to hear you talk like that. Makes it seem as if we'd just met by the big rock on the Sweetwater. You remember, don't you?"
"Yes, I remember," she replied.
He eyed her sober little profile curiously. She seemed strangely demure.
"I don't think you're very glad to see me," he said. "I thought perhaps you would be. There were so many things that we began to talk about and didn't finish. I've thought about them a good deal. I really want to talk to you about them again. Couldn't we—er—go somewhere and—Have you had lunch yet? Can't we find a place to get a cup of tea?"