“What do you say, Maggie, to a little walk?”
“All right,” she replied eagerly.
They went down the narrow stairway together. On the landing of the second floor, which contained only Maggie's bedroom and the Duchess's and a tiny kitchen, Maggie started to leave him to change into street clothes; but he caught her arm and said, “Come on.” They descended the next flight and came into the back room behind the pawnshop, which the Duchess used as a combination of sitting-room, office, and storeroom. About this musty museum hung or stood unredeemed seamen's jackets, men and women's evening wear, banjos, guitars, violins, umbrellas, and one huge green stuffed parrot sitting on top of the Duchess's safe.
“I wanted to talk, not walk,” he said. “Let's stay here.”
He took her hands and looked down on her steadily. Under the yellow gaslight her face gleamed excitedly up into his, her breath came quickly.
“Well, sir, what do you think of me?” she demanded. “Have I changed much?”
“Changed? Why, it's magic, Maggie! I left you a schoolgirl; you're a woman now. And a wonder!”
“You think so?” She flushed with pride and pleasure, and a wildness of spirit possessed her and demanded expression in action. She freed her left hand and slipped it over Larry's shoulder. “Come on—let's two-step.”
“But, Maggie, I've forgotten.”
“Come on!”