"I think so."
"Then tell me what to do to help you."
He turned toward her, hesitated, controlling the impulsive reply.
"To help me," he said, smilingly, "please keep away from the dynamite."
"Oh, I will," she nodded seriously. "What else am I to do?"
"Would you mind preparing dinner?"
She looked up at him a little shyly: "No.... And I am very glad that I am not to dine alone."
"So am I," he said. "And I am very glad that it is with you I am to dine."
"You never even looked at me in the galleries," she said.
"Then—how could I know you were reading Valdez if I never looked at you?"