Joe held the door open for her, keeping tight hold of the packages. He felt a little warm behind the ears.
She preceded him to the pavement. He got a good look at her as she passed through the door. Still the baffling resemblance!
Then she turned and faced him on the pavement. Again she looked at him shyly, and there were little dimples in her cheeks as she tried hard not to smile.
"I knew I'd get into trouble when I loaded myself down with all these bundles," she explained, reaching out for them.
Confidence was returning to him. He felt the old lazy relaxation of being amused.
"Can't I help you out of your difficulty—see that you get safely home with them?" he asked quietly. "I've my car here."
She raised her eyebrows, looked startled a moment, and then flushed slightly. "Oh, don't bother. I can get a taxi."
She made no further resistance and directly he was slamming the door behind her. He had caught a glimpse of black-silk stocking above a white buckskin pump that somehow disturbed his poise. As he walked around to the other side of the car he was wondering where it was he had seen her before. He could not remember.
He climbed into his place behind the steering wheel and observed her again. It was a setting that became her. Her shyness seemed to have all vanished. She was powdering her nose as he climbed in; a silver vanity case lay open on her lap. He noticed it, saw a hairpin and two nickles and a card or two. She had said she might take a taxi.
Directly she was smiling into his eyes. It made him just a little bit giddy in spite of himself. How old was she, he wondered? For a moment he busied himself with the car. There was nothing made up about her; it was a clear case of good looks. And she knew how to wear her clothes.