Raymond was collecting his scattered wits.

"Presumably. Yes--it would," Joan returned.

"And then we could have all the talks we wanted to, couldn't we?"

"Within proper limitations," Joan nodded, comically prim under the
circumstances.

"But for reasons best known to you," Raymond went on, slowly, "you want
to keep the shield up? All right. But then if we want the talks----"

"I don't want them!" Joan's voice shook. Poor, lonely little thing, she
wanted exactly that!

"I bet that's not true!" ventured Raymond. Then suddenly:

"Why do you laugh as you do?"

"What's the matter with my laugh?"

"I don't know. It's old and it's awfully kiddish--it's rather upsetting.
I keep remembering it as I always shall your face now that I have seen
it!"

Truth can take care of itself if it has half a chance. It was beginning
to grip Joan through the mists that shrouded her--mists that life has
evolved for the protection of those who might never be able to
distinguish between the wolf in sheep's skin and sheep in wolf hide.

Joan knew the ancient code of propriety, but she knew, also, the ring of
truth and she was young and lonely. She knew she ought not to be playing
with wild animals, but she was also sure in the deepest and most sincere
parts of her brain that the man beside her, strange as it might seem,
was really a very nice and well-behaved domestic animal and was making
rather a comical exhibition of himself in the skin of the beast of prey.

"You haven't told me where you are going," Raymond said, presently.

"Home!" The one word had the dreary, empty sound that it could not help
having when Joan considered the studio with Sylvia gone and Patricia an
uncertain element.

"Are you?" Raymond asked, lamely. One had to say something or turn back.
Joan felt like crying. Then suddenly Raymond said:

"I wish you'd come and have dinner with me, and I'm not going to excuse
myself or explain anything. I know I'm using all the worn-out tricks of
fellows that are anything but decent; but I know that you know--though
how you do I'm blest if _I_ know--but I know that you understand. The
thing's too big for me. I've just got to risk it! I'm lonely and I bet
you are; we've got to eat--why not eat together?"

The words sounded like explosives, and Joan mentally dodged, but at the
end felt that she knew all there was to know and she caught her breath
and said very slowly:

"I'm going to be quite as honest as you are. I wi