“What are you thinking?” he asked. “Something sad, I’ll warrant.” “Fluffy.” She glanced across at him, appealing for his patience. “How is she?” He tried to humor her with a display of interest “She’s broken up. She’s been speaking to Simon Freelevy. She absolutely refuses to go on playing in New York; it’s too full of memories. So it’s all arranged; she’s going to California in the New Year with a road-company.” He understood her depression now. If Fluffy was leaving New York, this was his chance. Somehow or other he must manage to hang on. He was glad he had not sent that cable to his mother. “That’s hard lines on you.” He sank his voice sympathetically. “You’ll miss her awfully.” Desire woke up and became busy with what remained of her ice. “I shan’t. She wants me to go with her. It’ll do me good.” Then coaxingly, as though she were asking his permission, “I’ve never been to California.” The heat drained from him. He paused, giving himself time to grow steady. If he counted for so little, she shouldn’t guess his bitter disappointment. “But will you leave your mother? I should think she’ll be frightfully lonely.” “My beautiful mother’s so unselfish.” “But----” “Well?” They gazed at each other. He wondered whether she was only playing with him--whether she had only said it that he might amuse her with a storm of protests. “You were going to ask about yourself?” she suggested. “I’ve thought all that out. You and mother can come and join us somewhere. There’s splendid riding out West. I’ve always wanted to ride. It would be fine to go flying along together if--if you were there.” He didn’t understand this girl, who could give him ivory miniatures one minute and propose to go away for months the next--who, while she refused to become anything to him, undertook to arrange his life. He laughed tolerantly. “I’m afraid that can’t be. I shouldn’t accomplish much by tagging after a road-company all across a continent. You don’t seem to realize that I have a living to earn.” “That was a nasty laugh,” she pouted; “I didn’t like it one little bit.” She played with his fingers idly, lifting them up and letting them fall, like soldiers marking time. “You manicure them now. You’ve learnt something by coming to America---- Your living!” She smiled. “It seems to come easily enough. I hear you talk about it, but I never see you working.” Here was the opening for which he had been waiting. “You’re right. I’ve hardly done a stroke since I landed. Winning you has taken all my time.” “Has it?” She glanced round the room dreamily, making confidences impossible by her lack of enthusiasm. He got up. “Shall we go back to the apartment? We can talk better there.” She lounged to her feet. “If you’ll promise not to worry me. I’ve gone through too much to-day already.”