“I'm awfully sorry,” she apologized. “Ella's very fond of me. She was trying to protect me. She couldn't see who it was in the dark.”
“No; I reckon not,” Jim laughed.
“I've changed our plans for the evening,” she announced. “We won't go to ride tonight. I want you to bring my best friend to dinner with us at Mouquin's. Go after her in the car. I want to impress her——”
“I got you, Kiddo! She's goin' to look me over—eh? All right, I'll stop at the store and get a clean collar. I wouldn't like her to see the print of that tiger's claw on my neck.”
“There's her address the Gainsborough Studios. Drop me at Mouquin's and I'll have the table set in one of the small rooms upstairs. I'll meet you at the door.”
Jim glanced at the address, put it in his pocket and helped her draw on her heavy coat.
“You'll be nice to Jane? I want her to like you. She's the only real friend I've ever had in New York.”
“I'll do my best for you, little girl,” he promised.
He dropped her at the wooden cottage-front on Sixth Avenue near Twenty-eighth Street, and returned in twenty minutes with Jane.
As the tall artist led the way upstairs, Jim whispered: