"Come in, Mr.----" (she seemed to forget his name and let it go) "and sit down."
She tripped across the room to the davenport and sat, indicating that he was to sit beside her.
Merriam wanted both to take that seat and not to take it. He took it.
She crossed one leg over the other and looked at him, smiling. One small, squarish, plump hand lay on her knee, ready, Merriam half divined, to be taken if any one should desire to take it. He wondered if it were true that she had "never had any one but George."
"I forget your name," she said confidentially.
"Merriam." It was not said stiffly. He was too much attracted to be stiff. He realised that he was answering her smile.
"What's your first name?"
"John."
"Then I shall call you 'John.' I don't like last names--and 'Mister' and 'Miss.'"
"They're stiff," he said, "playing up" alarmingly as on a former occasion.