han she would have
thought possible. It pleased her, and confirmed a great deal that she
had sensed about him. "Then you won't mind at all if I join you?"

"By all means," he returned without hesitation, holding the silver case
toward her. She deftly removed a cigarette, and tamping it upon her
fingernail twice, held it out for him to light. She bent back her
wrist and let it dangle between her long fingers while he lit his own
cigarette.

"Now that we've learned all about me," she said, blowing a thin stream
of smoke away, "perhaps you'll tell me about yourself, Professor."

"Please," he said, setting the ashtray in the middle of the table, "do
call me Antoine. We needn't be so formal, I think."

She laughed quietly. "Antoine."

"My mother was French," he stated quietly.

Gretchen caught his use of the past tense, but did not inquire further.
"No doubt she is the source of your excellent French."

"Maman did speak French to me as a child--but my French is quite poor
for anything but domestic conversation."

"From what little I speak," she replied, drawing on her cigarette, "you
sounded quite fluent." She let the smoke linger on her lips, then blew
it away softly.

"Why thank you for the compliment...Miss Haviland."

"Oh, dear," she said, realizing what she had neglected. "My Christian
name is Gretchen."

"Gretchen Haviland," he repeated slowly. "That has quite a
satisfactory ring to it."

She complimented him on the quality of the tobacco when they were
finished smoking. The hour was past nine o'clock, so they left the
cafe and walked into the street. The fog had descended, lower and
thicker than before. Occasional carriages appeared, rumbling quietly
along. Tatters of mist blew sluggishly past the gaslights.

"I hope you shall allow me the pleasure of escorting you home this
evening?" he asked as they walked.

"I should be honored."

He held out his elbow, and she slipped her gloved hand over his
forearm. They walked in silence toward her rooming house, both
enjoying the quiet of the evening. It seemed much warmer than before,
and Gretchen thought a snow was about to fall. The air had the crisp
scent of impending snow.

"I am delighted," Professor Bridwell said after a while, "that you were
not busy this evening. Surely you must have so many friends. Other
engagements."

"No," she answered, "I have very few friends. But
surely--Antoine--there must be any number of ladies who w