And then one afternoon at two she risked her all. It was an opportune time. Joe—wonder of wonders—was doing nothing, but sitting back like a gray wreck, with his feet crossed on his desk, and a vile cigar in his mouth. It was the first cigar in ages, and he puffed on it and brooded dreamily.
Myra came over, sat down beside him, and spoke airily.
"Hello, Joe!"
"Why, hello, Myra!" he cried. "What d'ye mean by helloing me?"
"I'm glad to meet you."
"Same to you."
"I've come back from the country, Joe."
"So I see."
"Do you?"
"Haven't I eyes?"