"It was a debt. I certainly am not going to accept money."
"Hold up!" With the point of his knife, disdainfully, he steered the bill from in front of him to a place of seclusion. "This ain't important, anyhow. It's your manner, kid. Rather uppish. Now, let's get a few things straight before we start. Do you remember one evening back in Cincinnati, in a howling dirty depot, when you wanted to give up everything and marry me? Do you?"
She looked at him, and she blushed. Great heavens! Was it possible?
"And what did I do? I was honest! I told you I was going to get a start first, to be sure I was the kind of a feller who could give you what you want. Didn't I?"
"You should have married me then!" she said quickly.
"Perhaps! But I didn't. Why? On your account! Just let's keep these things in mind. If I come back now, I'm to get as fair a chance as the next fellow! Now, Floss, don't come any airs over me! It won't go!"
The hash arrived, and he attacked it, all smiles. How was she to make him understand the difference between them now—the immense worldly distance that now separated them? She remembered Sassoon's analysis, and adopted it as an inspiration.
"My dear Josh," she said in a more conciliatory tone, "even if I were not engaged,—and engaged to a man I adore blindly,—there wouldn't be the slightest possibility for anything between us."
"We'll see!" he said, unruffled, his mouth half full.
"Your chance was in Cincinnati!" she said deliberately. "That was your mistake, or your good luck! I'm different now—so changed I don't recognize myself!"