"No, thanks."
He did not at all desire a talk of that sort; in a private room, secured for a private conversation, they must become stiff with each other—too self-conscious, at least; and self-consciousness breeds opposition. Gregg did not think this out but he felt it; and, having rejected her suggestion of her office, they had as alternative the hall or the sidewalk or a restaurant. That was the obvious resort for this hour, though it only now occurred to him, in spite of his having come here to look her up at noon. He had merely thought, "I'll probably find her at noon and have a chance to speak with her," without realizing, until he saw her, how many and difficult must be the words required.
"Couldn't we talk over a table?" he asked, in his pleasant way.
"Where do you mean?"
He discerned that she was testing him to see where he would take her, so he named the most thoroughly reputable hotel restaurant near-by.
"Yes, that's a good place," she agreed slowly, as though considering the restaurant; but of course he knew she was sizing him up as he was re-appraising her, checking his present impressions with those he had carried from that night on Clearedge Street,
Although it was more evident this noon that her years were few, if any, more than his, she held toward him the air of one older in experience or comprehension, at least. Partly that was defensive, he thought; but it was the only hint of the defensive in her manner. She was no nearer to accepting the status of a Magdalene than she had been that night; and she was as completely free now, as then, from that disgusting, slick assumption of superiority pretended to by the few indi-
