"Why—Mrs. Deming! Dorothy! This is a joyful encounter sure enough!"
It was Pete Slosson.
"You-all must lunch with me—please!" he went on quickly. "I'm lonely; don't know a soul around here—and then you turn up! Will you befriend a stranger? Please!"
Mrs. Deming, who had always rather liked Slosson, was quick to accept, and Dorothy had no reason to decline. True, Slosson was associated in business with Ried Williams, and since that country club dance she had felt detestation and even hatred for Williams; but, in her eyes, Slosson had ever been no more than an impulsive boy, too abundantly endowed with youth and vitality for his own good.
Slosson secured a window table. Dorothy sat with her back to the room, before her all the passing pomp and glitter of the Avenue, while Mrs. Deming chose to enjoy the dining-room itself. Their host was obviously on his best behavior. Usually there was in Slosson's bearing a good deal of self-consciousness; he liked to pose a little. To-day, the meeting was so unexpected that he revealed himself sincerely enough.
Dorothy was rather glad of the meeting. She had known Pete Slosson all her life. In the way of women, she saw him not as men saw the real Pete Slosson. She saw only the better part of him, lying far underneath the surface—the man of dreams and might-have been.
Once she had even fancied herself in love with him. Dorothy could not forget this; she did not have it to forgive, since Slosson had never known it. Because he had been genuinely in love with her, she held him in some measure of friendship and sympathetic regard.
"I'm glad you're doing so well in Indianapolis, Pete," she said frankly. "Are you often in New York?"
"No, unless something special comes up. I got in last night, and am leaving again to-night—I've no time for frivolity any more. When I come, it's on business that demands quick action."
"You're certainly looking in fine shape!" Dorothy regarded him with a smile. "You seem a lot more human, Pete!"