comfortably understanding and understood; could find whatever he
expected in her as easily as one finds the editorial page--or the
sporting page--in a familiar newspaper. He merely became mildly
contentious and made questioning noises in his throat as she went on:

"You know it is pretty cold here. They can say all they want to about
the cold and all that out in Minnesota, but, really, the humidity----"

"Rats; it isn't so very cold, not if you walk fast."

"Well, maybe; anyway, I guess it would be nice to explore some."

"All right; let's."

"I do think people are so conventional. Don't you?" said Gertie, while
Carl discerningly stole one of Ray's best cigars out of the humidor.
"Awfully conventional. Not going out for good long walks. Dorothy
Gibbons and I did find the nicest place to walk, up in Bronx Park, and
there's such a dear little restaurant, right on the water; of course
the water was frozen, but it seemed quite wild, you know, for New
York. We might take that walk, whenever you'd like to."

"Oh--Bronx Park--gee! Gertie, I can't get up much excitement over
that. I want to get away from this tame city, and forget all about
offices and parks and people and everything like that."

"N-n-n-now!" she clucked in a patronizing way. "We mustn't ask New
York to give us wilderness, you know! I'm afraid that would be a
little too much to ask of it! Don't you think so yourself!"

Carl groaned to himself, "I won't be mothered!"

He was silent. His silence was positively noisy. He wanted her to hear
it. But it is difficult to be sulky with a bland, plump woman of
thirty who remembers your childhood trick of biting your nails, and
glances up at you from her embroidery, occasionally patting her brown
silk hair or smoothing her brown silk waist in a way which implies a
good digestion, a perfect memory of the morning's lesson of her
Sunday-school class, and a mild disbelief in men as anything except
relatives, providers, card-players, and nurslings. Carl gave up the
silence-cure.

He hummed about the room, running over the advertising pages of
magazines, discussing Plato fraternities, and waiting till it should
be time to go home. Their conversation kept returning to the
fraternities. There wasn't much else to talk about. Before to-night
they had done complete justice to all other topics--Joralemon, Bennie
Rusk, Joe Jordan's engagement, Adelaide Benner, and symphony concerts.
Gertie embroidered, patted her hair, smoo