“I will. The question is, will he?” But he saw that the subject was unpleasant.
“We'll have to do this again. It's been mighty nice of you to come.”
“You'll have to ask me, the next time.”
“I certainly will. But I think I'd better let your family look me over first, just so they'll know that I don't customarily steal the silver spoons when I'm asked out to dinner. Or anything like that.”
“We're just—folks.”
“So am I, awfully—folks! And pretty lonely folks at that. Something like that pup that has adopted me, only worse. He's got me, but I haven't anybody.”
“You'll not be lonely long.” She glanced up at him.
“That's cheering. Why?”
“Well, you are the sort that makes friends,” she said, rather vaguely. “That crowd that drops into the shop on the evenings you're there—they're crazy about you. They like to hear you talk.”
“Great Scott! I suppose I've been orating all over the place!”