She smiled at this and extended her hand again frankly.
He took it. He didn't know that he was gripping it in a strong nervous clasp.
'I've heard of you,' she said. He liked her voice. 'You write, don't you?'
'Oh yes,' said he huskily, 'I write some.'
She didn't know.
He wondered dully who could have told her of him. It sounded like the old days. It was almost, for a moment, encouraging.
Al Knight drifted away to speak to one of the new-comers.
'Do you write stories?' she asked politely.
'I try to, sometimes. It's awfully hard.'
'Oh yes, I know.'