ve
suspected Miss Brown.

"I might," thought Miss Summers, "be a part of the furniture, for all
he sees in me." She did not think it resentfully, though with an odd
little twinge of disappointment. She regarded him as a very superior
young man, the sort she had always wanted to know. But she had made a
promise and she would not desert the conspiracy.

She noticed that he never ate or went out at the noon hour, as if there
were no such thing as an inner man demanding attention. Thereafter her
luncheon, which was always carried in a dainty little basket, was
seasoned with a conviction of gross selfishness. And one day, after
she had eaten, she went, basket in hand, to the door of David's little
room.

"Mr. Quentin--" she began.

Instantly David was on his feet--one of his habits she liked so well;
other men in the office did not have it. "Yes, Miss Summers?"

She held out the basket. In the bottom reposed two fat cookies and a
big apple whose ruddy cheeks had a rival in hers at the moment.

"My eyes were bigger than my appetite. Would you care for them?"

"Thank you, Miss Summers," he said politely, "but I never eat at noon."

"I _wish_ you would," she insisted. "If you don't, they--they'll
spoil."

"By to-morrow? Hardly, I should think. Thank you, no," he repeated.
"I find it doesn't agree--"

He saw her face fall.

"On second thought I believe I will. They look so tempting. It's very
good of you to think of it."

He took the basket from her hands. But she did not leave. She stood,
still hesitant, looking up at him. He motioned to his chair, the only
one in the room.

"Won't you sit down?"

"But where will you sit?"

He answered by brushing some papers from the corner of the table and
seating himself there. She took the chair--and the sense of adventure
was very vivid.

David bit into a cooky. "Fine! This is good of you. Ordinarily I'm
not hungry at all at noon--habit, you know. But to-day I am. How did
you happen to guess it?"

"I didn't guess it. I just thought--" She looked up at him again,
timidly. "Often I bring more than I can eat, and if--"

He had to smile at that. "Isn't that a little obvious? I could go out
if I wanted to, you know."

"Oh, I didn't mean _that_!" She was overcome by confusion.

"And I didn't mean to snub you," he smiled again. "You needn't
apologize. One need never be ashamed of a bit of hospitality, need
one?" To give her time to recove