Enoch glanced askance at Diana, who shook her head. "This is entirely out of my experience, Mr. Secretary," she said. "Gustav," said Enoch, "it's not yet one o'clock. We must leave here at five minutes before two. Something very simple, Gustav." He checked several items on the card and gave it to the head waiter with a smile. Gustav smiled too. "Yes, Mr. Secretary!" he exclaimed, and disappeared. "And that's settled," said Enoch, "and we can forget it. Miss Allen, when shall you go back to the Canyon?" "Why," answered Diana, looking a little startled, "not till I've finished the work for Mr. Watkins, and that will take six months, at least." "I think the President's idea will be that you must get to your own work, at once. Some one else can carry on Watkins' researches." "I ought to do some studying in the Congressional library," protested Diana. "Don't you think Washington can endure me a few months longer, Mr. Secretary?" "Endure you!" Enoch's voice broke a little, and he gave Diana a glance in which he could not quite conceal the anguish. A sudden silence fell between the two that was broken by the waiter's appearance with the first course. Then Diana said, casually: "My father is going to be very happy when I write him about this. Do you remember him at all clearly, Mr. Secretary?" "Yes," replied Enoch. Then with a quick, direct look, he asked, "Did your father, ever give you the details of his experience with me in the Canyon?" Diana's voice was low but very steady as she replied, "Yes, Mr. Secretary. He told me long ago, when you made your famous Boyhood on the Rack speech in Congress. It was the first word he had heard of you in all the years and he was deeply moved." "I'm glad he told you," said Enoch. "I'm glad, because I'd like to ask you to be my friend, and I would want the sort of friend you would make to know the worst as well as the best about me." "If that is the worst of you--" Diana began quickly, then paused. "As father told me, it was a story of a boy's suffering and the final triumph of his mind and his body." Enoch stared at Diana with astonishment in every line of his face. Then he sighed. "He couldn't have told you all," he muttered. "Yes, he did, all! And nothing, not even what the President said to-day, can mean as much to me as your asking me to be your friend." Enoch continued to stare at the lovely, tender face opposite him. Diana smiled. "Don't look so incredulous, Mr. Secretary! It's not polite. You are a very famous person. I am nobody. We are lunching together in a wonderful hotel. I don't even vaguely surmise the names of the things we are eating. Don't look at me doubtingly. Look complacent because you can give a lady so much joy." Enoch laughed with a quick relief that made his cheeks burn. "And so you are nobody! Curious, then, that you should have impressed yourself on me so deeply even when you were a child!"