“Perhaps you'd dine with me.”
“Why—all right. At Jim's, say.”
The color came rushing to Peter's face.
“Right away?” he suggested, controlling his voice. “All right. I'll meet you there.”
Peter hung up the receiver and smiled. So Zanin was to see Sue this evening, was he? “He'll need a telescope,” mused Peter with savage joy as he hurried out.
CHAPTER XI—PROPINQUITY-PLUS
HE caught up with her at the corner nearest Jim's—the same Sue he had first met, here in the Village, on a curbstone, eating an apple—wearing her old tarn o'shanter; good shoulders, no hips, well-shaped hands and feet; odd, honest deep-green eyes.
She was a wreck from endless rehearsing she told him smilingly and ordered a big English chop and a bigger baked potato. These were good at Jim's. She ate them like a hungry boy.