The maid was so starched that she creaked. She glanced at Milt---- Claire didn't make him so nervous that he thought of his clothes, but the maid did. He was certain that she knew that he had blacked his own shoes, knew how old were his clothes. He was urging himself, "Must get new suit tomorrow--ready-made--mustn't forget, now--be sure--get suit tomorrow." He wanted to apologize to the maid for existing.... He wouldn't dare to fall in love with the maid.... And he'd kill the man who said he could be fool enough to fall in love with Miss Boltwood. He sipped his tea, and dropped sandwich crumbs, and ached, and panted, and peeped at the crushing quantities of pictures and sconces and tables and chairs in the room, and wondered what they did with all of them, while Claire chattered: "Yes, we weren't exclusive out on the road. Didn't we meet funny people though! Oh, somehow that 'funny people' sounds familiar. But---- What fun that morning was at--Pellago, was it? Heavens, I'm forgetting those beastly little towns already--that place where we hazed the poor landlady who overcharged me." "Yes." He was thinking of how much Claire would forget, now. "Yes. We certainly fixed her, all right. Uh--did you get the storage check for your car?" "Oh yes, thank you. So nice of you to bother with it." "Oh, nothing at all, nothing---- Nothing at all. Uh---- Do you like Seattle?" "Oh yes. Such views--the mountains---- Do you like it?" "Oh yes. Always wanted to see the sea." "Yes, and---- Such a well-built town." "Yes, and---- They must do a lot of business here." "Yes, they---- Oh yes, I do like Seat----" He had darted from his chair, brushed by the tea-wagon, ignoring its rattle and the perilous tipping of cups. He put his hand on her shoulder, snorted, "Look here. We're both sparring for time. Stop it. It's--it's all right, Claire. I want you to like me, but I'm not--I'm not like that woman you were telling about that's trying to butt in. I know, Lord I know so well what you're thinking! You're thinking I'm not up to the people you've been seeing last couple of days--not up to 'em yet, anyway. Well---- We'll be good friends." Fearless, now, his awe gone in tenderness, he lifted her chin, looked straight into her eyes, smiled. But his courage was slipping. He wanted to run and hide. He turned abruptly, grumbling, "Well, better get back to work now, I guess." Her cry was hungry: "Oh, please don't go." She was beside him, shyly picking at his sleeve. "I know what you mean. I like you for being so understanding. But---- I do like you. You were the perfect companion. Let's---- Oh, let's have a walk--and try to laugh again." He definitely did not want to stay. At this moment he did not love her. He regarded her as an estimable young woman who, for a person so idiotically reared, had really shown a good deal of pluck out on the road--where he wanted to be. He stood in the hall disliking his old cap while she ran up to put on a top coat.