“But you are attractive—you are lovely!” Gorgas shot out impulsively.
“Ah! thank you,” the Lady bowed herself away; “that is a nice speech. And I know you think you mean it.”
She was gone and others crowded around.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was old?” Gorgas inquired.
“It was a stupid joke of mine not to,” he replied as they struggled through the crowd. “I found her out long ago. She has had great troubles—death in a very frightful form. She has considerable wealth but gives her whole life to charity. Eccentric, a little; but her mind is mighty keen, I can tell you. I am very fond of her; that is why I did not like to discuss her with anyone after I found out.”
At half-past ten they were having supper in a gaudy grill-room, thrilling with the strumming of an Hungarian “orchestra” and the stirring air of city-bohemias.
Then Allen Blynn came partly to his senses. “You’re going home tonight,” he said firmly.
“On the ‘Midnight,’” she agreed, and displayed her Pullman ticket.
“Good!” he exclaimed, relieved. “I’m half responsible, you know,” he added. “It’s a great lark. I’m just chuck full of joy; but we must ship you off tonight.”
“Let’s quarrel a little bit, first,” she smiled. “We have had some dandy quarrels, haven’t we?”