"They knew too much." Her firm little chin set rather grimly. "Do you want to hear about it?"
"Yes. I'm curious," confessed Hal.
"I went to lunch with another girl and a couple of drummers, out at Callender's Pond Hotel. She said she knew the men and they were all right. They weren't. They got too fresh altogether. So I told Florence she could do as she pleased, but I was for home and the trolley. I guess I could have made it with a life-preserver," she laughed.
Hal was surprisedly conscious of a rasp of anger within him. "You ought not to put yourself into such a position," he declared.
She threw him a covert glance from the corner of her sparkling eyes. "Oh, I guess I can take care of myself," she decided calmly. "I always have. When fresh drummers begin to talk private dining-room and cold bottles, I spread my little wings and flit."
"To another private room," mocked Hal. "Aren't you afraid?"
"With you? You're different." There sounded in her voice the purring note of utter content which is the subtlest because the most unconscious flattery of womankind.
A silence fell between them. Hal stared into the fire.
"Are you warm enough?" he asked presently.
"Yes."