She was several steps away before the man recovered from this rebuff. Then, with a face of set intent, he gave chase. "I say--Miss Thursday!" Joan accepted with a secret smile this sudden change from the off-hand manner of his first addresses. "Miss Thursday, eh?" she said to herself; but halted none the less. "Well?"--with self-evident surprise. "Look here--_lis'n_!" insisted Quard: "I got to have a talk with you." "What about?" "Oh, this is no good place. When can I see you?" "Is it quite necessary, Mister Quard?" He wagged an earnest head at her: "That's right. What are you doing tonight?" "Oh, I got an engagement with some friends of mine," she said with spontaneous mendacity. "Well, then, when?" "Oh, I don't know; you might as well take your chances--call round sometime--in two or three days." "And I got to be satisfied with that?" "Why not?" Quard shook his head helplessly: "I'd like to know what's come over you...." "Why, what's the matter?" The temptation to lead him on was irresistible. "You've changed a lot since I seen you last. What you been doing to yourself?" She bridled.... "Maybe it's you that is changed. Maybe you're seeing things different, now you're sober." Quard hesitated an instant, his features drawn with anger. Then abruptly: "_Plenty!_" he ejaculated, and as if afraid to trust himself further, turned and marched back to Broadway. Smiling quietly, Joan made her way home. On the whole, the encounter had not been unenjoyable. She had not only held her own, she had condescended with striking success. Later, she repented a little of her harshness; she had been hardly kind, if Quard were sincere in his protestations of reform; and a little tolerance might have earned her an evening less lonely. It was spent, after a dinner which proved unexpectedly desolate, lacking the companionship to which of late she had grown accustomed, in the back-parlour (to which Matthias had left her the key) and in discontented efforts to fix her interest on a novel. Before ten o'clock she gave it up, and climbed to her room, to lie awake for hours in mute rebellion against her friendless estate. She might, it was true, have kept a promise made to her lover just before his departure, to look up and renew relations with her family. But the more she contemplated this step, the less it attracted her inclination. There'd be another row with the Old Man, most likely and ... anyway, there was plenty of time. Besides, they'd want money, if they found out she had any; and while a hundred and fifty was a lot, there was no telling when she'd get more. Eventually she fell asleep while reviewing her meeting with Quard and turning over her hazy impression that it wouldn't hurt her to be less stand-offish with him, next time.