“This afternoon. I don't want to go, but it's just as well to have it over with. Can I do anything for you in the city?”
“No, thank you. My wants are few and, at present, well supplied.”
“Don't you want me to match something for you? I thought women always had pieces of stuff that had to be matched immediately.”
“They made you edit the funny column, didn't they?” she asked, irrelevantly.
“They did, Miss Thorne, and, moreover, I expect I'll have to do it again.”
After a little, they were back on the old footing, yet everything was different, for there was an obtruding self consciousness on either side. “What time do you go?” she asked, with assumed indifference.
“Three-fifteen, I think, and it's after one now.”
He walked back to the house with her, and, for the second time that day, Hepsey came out to sweep the piazza.
“Good bye, Miss Thorne,” he said.
“Good bye, Mr. Winfield.”