"Which?" she inquired smilingly.
He understood: "Irish, please."
"Hot?"
"Thank you, yes,"
When the butler had brought it, the young man began to regret the
Racquet Club less violently.
"It's horribly cold out," he said. "There's scarcely a soul on the streets."
She nodded brightly:
"It's a wonderful night for what we have to do. And I don't mind the cold very much."
"Are you proposing to go OUT?" he asked, alarmed.
"Why, yes. You don't mind, do you?"