"Curious how things fall out," he observed cheerfully; "isn't it?"
"Yes--"
"I mean, your popping up like this just when I was thinking of you. Coincidence, you know."
"Coincidences," Sally informed him consciously, "are caviar only to book critics. There's nothing more common in real life."
He suffered this instruction with a mildly anguished smile.
"That's true, I presume, if one knows anything about real life. I don't go in for realistic novels you see, so can't say. But you're right one way: it isn't anything extraordinary, come to consider it, that you and I, both headed for Boston, should run into each other here. By the way," he added with a casual air, "speaking of coincidences, it sort of triple-plated this one to have your friend from Central Office hanging round so handy, didn't it? If he's in sight, why not be a sport and tip me off?"
"I don't see the necessity," Sally returned, biting her lip--"yet."
"Not from your point of view, perhaps--from mine, yes. Forewarned is fortunate, you know."
"I dare say."
"You won't put me wise?"