s.

"However! To be very gay!"

Later that evening in a cafe she leaned across the table and asked
excited questions about "Boheme" and Paris. What was Paris really like?
The Latin Quarter, the Beaux Arts? What did he do there, how did he
live? In what queer and funny old rooms? Did he live alone or with
somebody else? Something was clutching now at her breast. (Farrar had
sung "Mimi" that night). "Don't be silly!" she told herself. "Oh,
Joe!" she said, and she looked down at the fork in her hand which she
was fingering nervously. Then she looked quickly up and smiled. "What
man did you room with? Any one?" He was smiling across the table still.
"You inquisitive woman," said his eyes.

"No, I lived alone," he replied. "And I sat at a drafting board--with a
sweater on--it used to be cold."

"Oh, you poor dear!"

"And I worked," he continued, "like a bull pup. And along toward
morning I tied a wet towel around my head--"

"Oh, Joe!" Ethel's foot pressed his, and they laughed at each other.
"But there must have been," she cried, "so much besides! Joe Lanier,
you are lying! There were cafes--and student balls and fancy dress--and
singing--and queer streets at night!"

"That's so," he answered solemnly, "the city of Paris did have streets.
You walked on them--from place to place."

"Joe Lanier--"

"First you put the right foot forward, then the left--you moved along."

"Joe! For goodness sakes!"

"Look here. Do you know what I want to do with you?"

"No." And Ethel shook her head. She did know, precisely, and it was her
motive for all this talk.

"Take you there--and get rooms in the Quarter--not too far from the
Luxembourg--"

"Oh, Joe, you perfect darling!"

He went on describing all they would do, in the cafes and on the
streets, in old churches and at plays and at the Opera Comique, where
she must surely see "Louise." They began excitedly planning ways and
means, expenses, his business and when he could get away. He sobered at
that, and she cried to herself, "Now he's thinking of his friend Bill!
Oh, what a detestable, tiresome worm!"

Then a man who was passing their table stopped in surprise as he
recognized Joe, bowed, smiled and said something and went on, and joined
a hilarious group down the room. And Ethel saw him speak to them and
she felt their glances turned her way. Joe had grown suddenly awkward,
his face wore a forced, unnatural smile, and he was talking rapidly--but
she heard nothing