"Do you have an unlimited supply of these?" she asked as she emerged from its fragrant folds gratefully, refreshed in spite of herself.
"Very nearly!" he smiled. "Now come, and we will go and find something to eat."
"But you haven't told me what you mean by saying you flew here." He noticed that her voice was almost cheerful again.
"Just that," he said laughing, "I flew. It's the first time in my life, but I would have enjoyed it if I hadn't been so worried about you."
Then as her eyes looked still mystified, he explained.
"I have a friend who has been coaxing me to fly with him for months and I never seemed to have time. He had oodles of money, and no end of time, and so I just made good a promise I had given him once, and called him up. He was game all right, said of course he was going to New York in a couple of hours, and so we came. We got here sometime before your train came in. By the way, why didn't you come on it?"
"I did," she said sadly, "but I got off at the wrong station, something they called Manhattan Transfer. I had to wait ages before another came along."
"Manhattan Transfer! And you were knocking around that desolate place alone at that time of night? Well, I'll say your angels must have had their hands full taking care of you yesterday. They must be all worn out. I guess that's why I have the job for a little while now. Come, here's a taxi!"
She flashed him a faint little flicker of a smile and he helped her into the cab with a lighter heart. At least the days of reticence and distance were over between them. No more reservations, no more holding aloof. She was confiding in him as she used to do. One couldn't expect more than that, so soon.
They went to a quiet tea room. Nelson seemed to know just how to manage everything, seemed to know without asking his way anywhere. He put her in a seat where she was sheltered, and he ordered the things he knew from long years of association that she liked. Deftly, unobtrusively, he drew her attention away from herself, and the tragic happenings of the last few days, tempted her to eat, provoked her to laugh. He described his first sensations of flying, telling little anecdotes of his friend the aviator when they were both together in France, telling a joke he had heard the day before, calling her attention to a beautiful white kitten that came purring in to be stroked and fed tidbits.