“What kind of trouble? A run in your stocking?”
“No, really. It’s — real trouble. Honestly.”
“But you’re not telling me about it?”
She shook her head. “I can’t. Honestly I can’t. I mean — I don’t want to. You see, you are young and handsome. It’s something terrible — I don’t mean it’s terrible about me — it’s something terrible about someone.”
“Is it about the death of Miss Leed’s mother?”
“It—” She stopped. Then she went on. “Yes, it is. But that’s all I’ll tell you. If you’re going to be like this—”
The waiter brought the change, and I took my share. Then I said, “Okay. The reason I’m like this, I caught myself smelling your hair. Not only that, for the last half-hour I’ve had a different attitude toward our dancing. You may have noticed it.”
“Yes, I — did.”
“Very well. I didn’t. Until just now. I admit it’s possible there is romance ahead of us. Or you may break my heart and ruin my life. Anything can happen. But not yet. What I want to know now is, what time do you quit work?”
She was smiling at me. “I leave the office at five o’clock.”