At supper-time, Humphrey, eating alone in Stanley's, saw a familiar figure outside the wide front window. It was Henry, dressed in his newest white ducks, his blue coat newly pressed (while he waited, at the Swede tailor's down the street), standing stiffly on the curb.
Occasionally he glanced around, peering into the restaurant.
The light was failing in the rear of the store. Mrs Stanley came from her desk by the door and lighted two gas-jets.
Henry again glanced around. He saw Humphrey and knew that Humphrey saw him.
A youth on a bicycle paused at the curb.
Through the screen door Humphrey heard this conversation:—
'Hallo, Hen!'
'Hallo, Al!'
'Doing anything after?'
'Why—yeah. Got a date.'