“And of you,” she answered.
She was silent and meek while the waiter took the order. He was gone. She began.
She talked methodically. She chose her specific subject and cribbed him in it. It was plain that Caroline Lord detested vagueness and abhorred disorder. No wide fields to roam and to be lost in. Miss Lord was managing this lunch. Before long she bored him.
In the emptiness of this, he could retreat a bit and see her.
She was a handsome woman. Her age was beyond David’s knowing. He would have called her new, rather than young. She was well-kept.
“I saw a play last night I am sure would have interested you. The Blue Daisy. Have you seen it?”
He said, No.
“Do you go to the theater much?”
He said, No, again.
Miss Lord followed her plan. She had a catalogue of non-essential subjects: art, politics, life:—the sort to be served at amicable luncheons. She had already done books.