They found a small restaurant down town, and after he had hung up his hat and they had discussed the menu, she sat turning a fork over and over and wondering what they could talk about. She managed to find something to say, but it seemed to her that their conversation had no more flavor than sawdust, and she was very unhappy.
"Look here, Helen, why didn't you tell those folks where you live that we're engaged?" There was nothing but inquiry in his tone, but the words were a bombshell. She straightened in her chair.
"Why—" How could she explain that vague feeling about keeping it from Louise and momma? "Why—I don't know. What was the use?"
"What was the use? Well, for one thing, it might have cleared things up a little for some of these other fellows that know you."
What had momma told him? "I don't know any men that would be interested," she said.
"Well, you never can tell about that," he answered reasonably. "I was sort of surprised, that's all. I had an idea girls talked over such things."
She was tired, and in the dull little restaurant there was nothing to stimulate her. The commonplace atmosphere, the warmth, and the placidity of his voice lulled her to stupidity.
"I suppose they do," she said. "They usually talk over their rings." She was alert instantly, filled with rage at herself and horror. His cheeks grew dully red. "I didn't mean—" she cried, and the words clashed with his. "If that's it I'll get you a ring."
"Oh, no! No! I don't want you to. I wouldn't think of taking it."
"Of course you know I haven't had money enough to get you a good one. I thought about it pretty often, but I didn't know you thought it was so important. Seems to me you've changed an awful lot since I knew you."