When one has picked up a remnant of chiffon taffeta in a most desirable shade, at two-thirds the price asked at the regular counter, and has ordered a tidy luncheon of chicken-salad sandwiches and chocolate with whipped cream, in the popular restaurant of Kimbell’s very popular department store, one has cause to look cheerful. And Claire’s expression was anything but cheerful. She had removed neither veil nor gloves, but, with her hands folded in her lap, she sat staring through the window which overlooked one of New York’s busiest corners. “My dear, what has happened?” Claire transferred her gaze from the roof-tops to the pattern in the tablecloth which she outlined mechanically with a finger-tip. “I--I’ve--broken with Jimmy, and--and--he went back to Kansas City last night.” “Oh, you poor lamb! Whatever went wrong between you two? Why, you were just made for each other.” “That’s what Jimmy said,” murmured the girl in a choking voice. The great restaurant, with its chattering shoppers, faded away. They two seemed quite alone. Mrs. Larry reached out a warm impulsive hand and gripped Claire’s fingers, cold even through her heavy gloves. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” “Telling doesn’t help.” “Oh, yes, it does, my dear. Do you suppose that if I had known, I would have dragged you from one sale to another, boring you with such unimportant details as trimmings and findings? No, indeedy! We’d have gone home to my apartment and talked about Jimmy, and cuddled the baby.” Claire covered her eyes quickly with a shaking hand. “Oh, I couldn’t have stood that. This has been much better. It’s helped me to forget for a little while.” Mrs. Larry shook her head. “Oh, no, it hasn’t. You’re not the kind to forget. You’re too sweet and womanly and loyal, and you’re going to tell me what happened,--why you sent Jimmy away.” “Because I love him too well to marry him.” Mrs. Larry’s pretty oval face clouded. She was essentially a normal, single-minded woman. To her way of thinking, if you loved a man, you married him and made him happy. You did not send him off to another city to live among strangers, quite probably in some fussy, musty boarding-house. Subtleties of this sort positively annoyed her. They seemed so unnecessary, so futile. However, she cloaked her real feelings and threw an extra sympathetic note into her next speech. “Well, tell me the worst! I’m bromidic, I know, but perhaps I can help. Marriage does help one to understand the male creature!”