Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. “I am sick of it. . ” “Oh, well!” he said, a little doubtfully, “it’s just a phase,” and bent down and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, with his heart beating and his nerves a-quiver. Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair. “I don’t know. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that. Mike chimed in.
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