"You must have a lot of fun taking her
about; she's much more grown-up than I had imagined from what you've
said. She's almost a dangerous young person."

The young men found seats and Allen nursed his hat musingly. He had
nothing whatever to do, and the chance meeting with Harwood was a bright
incident in a bleak, eventless day.

"Oh, she's a nice child," replied Harwood indifferently. "But she finds
childhood irksome. It gives her ladyship a feeling of importance to hold
me here while she asks after the comfort of her mother. I suppose a girl
is a woman when she has learned that she can tell a man to wait."

"You should write a book of aphorisms and call it 'The Young Lady's Own
Handbook.' Perhaps I ought to be skipping."

"For Heaven's sake, don't! I want you as an excuse for getting away."

"I think I'd better go," suggested Allen. "I can wait for you in the
office."

"Then I should pay the penalty for allowing you to escape; she can be
very severe; she is a much harder taskmaster than her father. Don't
desert me."

Allen took this at face value; and it seemed only ordinary courtesy to
wait to say good-night to a young woman who was coming back in a moment
to report upon the condition of a sick mother. In ten minutes Marian
reappeared, having left her wraps behind.

"Mama is sleeping beautifully. And that's a sign that she's better."

Here clearly was an end of the matter, and Dan had begun to say
good-night; but with the prettiest grace possible Marian was addressing
Allen:--

"I'm terribly hungry and I sent down an order for just the smallest
supper. You see, I took it for granted that you would both be just as
hungry as I am, so you must come and keep me company." And to anticipate
the refusal that already glittered coldly in Dan's eye, she continued,
"Mama doesn't like me to be going into the restaurant alone, but she
approves of Mr. Harwood."

The head waiter was already leading them to a table set for three in
accordance with the order Manan had telephoned from her room. She had
eliminated the possibility of discussion, and Harwood raged in his
helplessness. There was no time for a scene even if he had thought it
wise to precipitate one.

"It's only a lobster, you know," she said, with the careless ease of a
young woman quite habituated to midnight suppers.

Harwood's frown of annoyance had not escaped her; but it only served to
add to her complete joy in the situation. There were other people