"Well ... Won't you sit down, Nora?"—confused by the portentous silence and the staring of the other. "Won't you sit down here?"
Mechanically the girl took her seat and Ann, wondering what this strange bearing might mean, resumed her own chair. They sat so, facing one another in the last sunset glow, the one staring stolidly, Ann covering her embarrassment, her wonder with a forced smile. Gradually, that smile faded, an uncertainty appeared in Ann's eyes and she broke out:
"Why, what is the matter with you, Nora?"
At that question the girl averted her face and let her hands drop down over the chair arms with careless laxity.
"Don't you know what it is?" she asked, in her deep, throaty voice, meeting Ann's inquiring gaze, shifting her eyes quickly, moving her shoulders with a slight suggestion of defiance.
"Why, no, Nora! You're so queer. Is something troubling you? Can't you tell me?"
Ann leaned forward solicitously.
The waitress laughed sharply, and lifted a hand to her brow, and shook her head.
"Don't you know what it is?" she asked again, voice hardening. "Can't you see? Are you blind? Or are you afraid?
"What'd you come out here for anyhow?" she cried, abruptly accusing, one hand out in a gesture of challenge, and Ann could see an angry flush come into her face and her lower lids puff with the emotion.