The attentive waiter at Geoffrey's elbow was being told to bring—— Anne's quick ear caught the word.
"No, please," she said at once, "not for Beulah and me."
His keen glance commanded her. "Of course not," he said, easily. Presently he had the whole matter of the menu settled, and could talk to Anne. She was enjoying it all immensely and said so.
"I should like to do this sort of thing every day."
"Heaven forbid. You would lose your dreams, and grow self-satisfied—and fat—like that woman over there."
Anne shuddered. "It isn't that she is fat—it's her eyes, and the way she makes up."
"That is the way they get when they live in places like this. If you want to be slender and lovely and keep your dreams you must teach school."
"Oh, but there's drudgery in that."
"It is the people who drudge who dream. They don't know it, but they do. People who have all they want learn that there is nothing more for life to give. And they drink and take drugs to bring back the illusions they have lost."
They fell into silence after that, and then it was Beulah who became voluble. Her fair round face beamed. It was a common little face, but it was good and honest. Beulah was having the time of her life. She did not know that she owed her good fortune to Anne, that if Anne had not been there, Geoffrey would not have asked her to dine. But if she had known it, she would not have cared.