"And I sat at a drafting board--with a sweater on--it used to be cold." "Oh, you poor dear!" "And I worked," he continued, "like a bull pup.

And along toward morning I tied a wet towel around my head--" "Oh, Joe!" Ethel's foot pressed his, and they laughed at each other.
"But there must have been," she cried, "so much besides! Joe Lanier, you are lying! There were cafes--and student balls and fancy dress--and singing--and queer streets at night!" "That's so," he answered solemnly, "the city of Paris did have streets.
You walked on them--from place to place." "Joe Lanier--" "First you put the right foot forward, then the left--you moved along." "Joe! For goodness sakes!" "Look here.

Do you know what I want to do with you ?" "No." And Ethel shook her head.

She did know, precisely, and it was her motive for all this talk.
"Take you there--and get rooms in the Quarter--not too far from the Luxembourg--" "Oh, Joe, you perfect darling!" He went on describing all they would do, in the cafes and on the streets, in old churches and at plays and at the Opera Comique, where she must surely see "Louise." They began excitedly planning ways and means, expenses, his business and when he could get away.

He sobered at that, and she cried to herself, "Now he's thinking of his friend Bill! Oh, what a detestable, tiresome worm!" Then a man who was passing their table stopped in surprise as he recognized Joe, bowed, smiled and said something and went on, and joined a hilarious group down the room.