ing off two of the coins in his hand, he solemnly exchanged them with her for the pie.
"Now what else do you want? I'd better get it for you," she offered, looking up at him with her steady, blue eyes alight.
"I don't want anything else, thanks," said Calvin stolidly.
"Where are you sitting, Mr. Clarke?"
"What?"
"Where are you going to eat that?"
He glanced, vaguely, over the tables. "There," he replied, indefinitely.
"That's where I am; so come on. Sit down. Here's your fork," she said, selecting one for him. "Sure you don't want anything else?"
"Sure," replied Calvin, positively.
"Don't worry," she whispered. "They don't know me here; nor you, any more than on the street. I want to talk to you. You're just the one I want. Put your pie down here."
