"Next Saturday, perhaps?"
David repeated his polite formula.
Jonathan eyed him wistfully. "You know, you're not obliged to say that if there is something else you would rather do. I shouldn't care to take advantage of my position to force my company and—and my friendship upon you."
"I should be very glad to have them." And when he had said it, David knew he had meant it. "Both of them," he added.
The little man's face lighted up eagerly. "You really mean that?"
"I certainly do."
"I am very happy to hear you say so. You see," Jonathan explained, "I lead a rather lonely life of it, away from the shop. I am not equipped for social life. People of talent and agreeable manners and taste do not seem to care for my company. They are not to be blamed, of course."
The homely face was sad again. David was uncomfortable and silent.
"However," Jonathan's smile reappeared, "I am fortunate to have found congenial friends here. Miss Summers is one. And now I add you to the list. With two friends a man ought to count himself rich, don't you think?"
David agreed smilingly.