“One should never wear a veil after six in the evening,” Joy retorted. “So I even _look_ as if I were in love, do I?” “You look—something,” said Jerry. “I haven’t got time to decide what—Bring him back afterwards; Sal and I are going down to Sonntaug with Baldy and his gang, so you’ll have it all to yourself.” Joy thought, as she trolleyed to the door of the Copley, that Jerry was peculiarly unresponsive about the wonderful turn things had taken. The two days’ separation had made her nervous, and Jerry’s attitude did not tend to make her less so. But she forgot her nervousness in the warm tide of anticipation sweeping over her that she had not dared to allow before. In coming through the swinging doors, the first person she saw was Jim Dalton, in the act of checking his hat. His recognition was as swift as hers, and he came forward to meet her. “I was just thinking about you,” he said without background. “I was wondering whereabouts Jerry’s apartment was, because I wanted to look you up.” “How long are you going to be in town?” she asked perfunctorily, as they moved up the “Peacock Alley” of Boston, the long narrow way of chairs and sofas facing each other, with a few stuffy people seated thereon, all glaring at one another. “I’m working here now, so I expect to be here right along. May I come and see you?” “I don’t know.” She could not tell him about Grant—But what other excuse was there?” “I—I really don’t know—you see, I’m so awfully busy all the time.” She had forgotten how keen his eyes were. They were now boring into hers until she cast hers down. “I am coming up sometime, if I may,” he said, “and if I can’t see you, I’ll see Jerry, and talk about you with her.” They had come to a halt by an empty sofa, and now, as Joy looked at him in a hope that if she looked long enough she could think of something to say, Grant came swiftly up to them from the lobby. “Good evening, Joy,” he said quietly. “Oh—Grant—have you met Mr. Dalton—” There was no particular reason for being confused, and showing it, but she was and did. Grant’s demeanor, while not rude, bordered on the glacial as he bowed, then stood waiting for Jim to go. Jim looked from one to the other, a swift, earnest look. “I’ll see you again, Miss Nelson,” he said, and with a negligent nod to Grant, was gone. The two went into the dining room in silence. It was only after they had ordered, that Grant spoke. “Who is that fellow, Joy—where did you meet him and what did he mean when he said he’d see you again?” Joy put down the roll she had been fingering. In the first keen disappointment over the flatness of their meeting, his words bit like acid. “I met him at a Prom this spring,” she said, striving to keep a pleasant and normal tone. “The only other time I have seen him was at the dance last week. I ran into him by accident here. That is all.”