"Where?" she asked, almost gayly. Her heart was bruised, but she meant to forget all that, and the thought of a lunch with John was a very good place to begin.
John took his bearings as to restaurants.
"If you could walk a short distance, there is Mildmay's," he suggested.
"I can walk miles," she answered; but she thought ruefully of her thin soles.
A white table between them, a waitress with rolls, and something hot in prospect; John thought the time had come.
"But, seriously, my darling, what shall we do? What is the best for you? Shall I take you to the Nevilles'?"
Phyllis looked blank.
"To be sent home in their car, bound hand and foot, and lectured besides!" she remonstrated.
"Well, Mrs. Thorpe could certainly put you up for the night. Odd I didn't think of her first."
"John, dear," began Phyllis, and then blushed, for the word had popped out of itself. However, after a moment she went on courageously—"Did you hear me say 'we,' a little while ago? We are going together wherever we go." She hesitated. "Don't you want me, John?" A swift look at his face, and hers glowed.