ort at self-control, that eclair made just four mouthfuls.
It seemed to him that he had no more than picked up his fork than it
was gone. However, he still had his coffee, and he settled back to
enjoy that in a more temperate fashion.

Without apparently taking the slightest interest in him, Miss Winthrop
observed the rapidity with which he concluded his lunch. She knew
something about being hungry, and if she was any judge that tidbit
produced no more impression upon this six-foot man than a peanut on an
elephant.

"That all you're going to eat?" she demanded.

Don was startled. The question was both unexpected and pointed. He met
her eyes--brown eyes and very direct. The conventional explanation
that he had ready about not caring for much in the middle of the day
seemed scarcely worth while.

"Yes," he answered.

"Broke?" she inquired.

He nodded.

"Then you ought to have had an egg sandwich instead of one of those
things," she informed him.

"But the one you had looked so good," he smiled.

"I had an egg sandwich to start with; this was dessert."

"I didn't know," he apologized.

"You ought to get one now. You won't last until night on just that."

"How much are they?" he inquired.

"A nickel."

"Then I guess I won't have one."

"Haven't you five cents?" she cross-examined.

"Only three cents," he answered.

"And you begin work to-day?"

"Yes."

"It's only Tuesday, and you won't get paid until Saturday."

"So?"

"Do you expect to make that eclair go until then?"

"I hadn't thought much about it," he answered uneasily.

"You don't look as if you would," she said. "You are new to this,
aren't you?"

"Yes."

He did not resent her questioning; and it did not occur to him to give
her an evasive reply.

"Just out of college?"

"Last fall."

"What you been doing since then?"

"Why, nothing," he admitted. "You see, my father died only last month,
and--"

"Oh, I see," she said more gently. "That's hard luck."

"It makes a good deal of a difference," he said.

"I know."

It had made a difference in her life when her father died.

She turned to her eclair; but, as she was raising the fork to her
lips, she caught his eyes and put it down again.

"Look here," she said; "you must eat something. You can't get along
without food. I've tried it."

"You!" he exclaimed.

"Indeed, yes."

"Dieting?"

"Hardly," she replied grimly.

He had heard of men going perforce without food,