“Thanks,” he said. “Yes—mighty warm.”
“Looking for a job?” inquired Miss Masters.
“I ought to be,” was the reply.
“Why aren’t you?”
“Because,” Harvey’s despondency deepened, “I’m looking for a girl.”
“A girl from down state?”
“How did you know that?”
“Why,” replied Miss Masters, “you don’t belong to Chicago. Your clothes tell me that. And the girl—she was from your own town?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about it?” Miss Masters’ manner was friendly. She drew a chair and sat down opposite the young man. Harvey was so moved by this unlocked for sympathy that tears filled his eyes.