"You thought she, if Marian Blessington, must necessarily be such a snob that she wouldn't associate with poor devils like us, did you?"
"Wait. You'll see."
"Well, it's none of your business, George; but I don't mind telling you, you're wrong. Quite wrong. In the head, too, George. I've already asked Miss Lessing, and she has accepted."
George's eyes, protruding, glistened with poignant surprise.
"You ast her already?"
"That's why I left you down the street. I dropped into Blessington's for the sole purpose of asking her."
"And she fell for it?"
"She accepted my invitation—yes."
After a long pause George ground his cigarette beneath his heel, and rose.
"In wrong, as usual," he admitted with winning simplicity. "I never did guess anythin' right the first time. Only—you just grab this from me: maybe she's willin' to run the risk of bein' seen with us, but that ain't sayin' she's anybody but Marian Blessington."