“You’re the only lady or gentleman in this room. I’m going to ask you to take me home!”
“Certainly, Miss Mills!”
With a queenly air she took his arm. Henderson ran forward and opened the door, the others hanging back, silent, afraid to risk a word that might reopen the discussion and delay her departure.
“Shall I drive?” Bruce asked when they reached the curb.
“Yes, thanks; if you don’t mind.”
“Home?” he inquired as he got her car under way.
“I was just doing a little thinking,” she said deliberatingly. “It will take only five minutes to run over to that little cafeteria on Fortieth Street. Some coffee wouldn’t be a bad thing; and would you mind turning the windshield—I’d like the air.”
“A good idea,” said Bruce, and stepped on the gas. The car had been built for Leila’s special use and he had with difficulty squeezed himself into the driver’s seat; but he quickly caught the hang of it. He stopped a little beyond the cafeteria to avoid the lights of the busy corner and brought out a container of hot coffee and paper cups.
“Like a picnic, isn’t it?” she said. “You won’t join me?”
She sipped the coffee slowly while he stood in the street beside her.