Tales of the City Room
his step, took her to a large restaurant, not many blocks away. He established her in a cosey corner by the window, where the summer breeze blew in upon her, laden with the perfume of the mignonette that blossomed on the window-sill. She was glad to see her favorite flower here. It seemed a happy omen, a home sanction on a course erratic but blameless. She leaned back in her chair and wondered why the tables and diners seemed so far away, and why the voice of the waiter came to her from such a distance. She was aroused by the sensation of having something go stinging down her throat, some thing that put new life into her. The stranger was holding a glass to her lips and the waiter stood by with water.
"It's the heat," she heard her escort say to him. "She's a little overcome by it. She has been out in the sun too long. She 'll be better when she has eaten something. Bring the soup as soon as you can."
She sat up, mechanically straightening her hat. "I beg your pardon," she said simply. "I feel quite myself now. Thank you."
"What a thoroughbred she is!" he thought.
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