"
"I love you--and I merely wanted you to kiss me," he added sadly.
His embarrassment, his shame, were both gone. She was a mos' beautiful
girl in whole worl'. Mos' beautiful eyes, like stars above. He wanted
to 'pologize--firs', for presuming try to kiss her; second, for
drinking--but he'd been so discouraged 'cause he had thought she was
mad at him----
The red-fat man cut in, and looking up at Edith smiled radiantly.
"Did you bring any one?" she asked.
No. The red-fat man was a stag.
"Well, would you mind--would it be an awful bother for you to--to take
me home to-night?" (this extreme diffidence was a charming affectation
on Edith's part--she knew that the red-fat man would immediately
dissolve into a paroxysm of delight).
"Bother? Why, good Lord, I'd be darn glad to! You know I'd be darn
glad to."
"Thanks _loads_! You're awfully sweet."
She glanced at her wrist-watch. It was half-past one. And, as she said
"half-past one" to herself, it floated vaguely into her mind that her
brother had told her at luncheon that he worked in the office of his
newspaper until after one-thirty every evening.
Edith turned suddenly to her current partner.
"What street is Delmonico's on, anyway?"
"Street? Oh, why Fifth Avenue, of course."
"I mean, what cross street?"
"Why--let's see--it's on Forty-fourth Street."
This verified what she had thought.
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