Nick laughed, embarrassed. "I was thinking some words that sound like poetry--or no, they were thinking themselves. Night in her eyes, morning in her hair! Because standing like you do, Mrs. May, a kind of gold powder wreath seems to be floating around your head." She laughed too. "You must have been reading poetry since I left you!" "No, that came out of my head. But I've been thinking a whole lot. About a good many things--only most of them were about you, or came back to you if they didn't begin there. Don't you know how one idea can sort of run through all your thoughts?" "I know," said Angela. Just so had the idea of him been running through all her thoughts these last few days. "But," she added with an effort, "why should you have been thinking of me? We're such--_new_ friends." "Yes," Nick admitted, "but you can't always account for your thoughts." "Of course not. And I'm grateful for a few of yours. Have you been enjoying San Francisco? Do sit down. And would you mind putting on the electricity?" "Must I? It's beautiful like this." "Very well. Leave it so." She sat on a sofa, still with her back to the window, and Nick took a chair facing the light. "I've had a feeling on me of waiting," said Nick. "Just that. I haven't gone around much, though this is the first time I've been in San Francisco, except for a day, since the city's grown up after the fire. I was waiting to see if you'd let me show you things, as you----" "As I--what?" Angela asked, when he paused. "I was going to say, as you partly promised. But that wouldn't be fair, because you didn't really promise anything." If he had claimed a right, it would have been easy to say that it didn't exist, but he made things harder by claiming nothing. Still, she went on: "No, of course, I couldn't promise. As I'm situated now, it's difficult to make plans. However, if you've really waited for me, it was kind, and there's no reason why I shouldn't ask you to show me San Francisco. Already, even though I haven't gone about at all, except just 'taxying' up to the hotel, I can see it's wonderful. From this window, it's like looking out on Rome, with all its hills--Rome transplanted to the sea. And I know you, and don't know Mr. Morehouse, who's my only other resource here. Besides, he's a busy man; and if you're busy, you pretend not to be." "I'm having a vacation," Nick explained. "All the nicer of you, spending some of it on me. But I mustn't let you spend too much. Besides, I have as little time as you have for running about the country. Everything has changed with me since I saw you last." "I was afraid so!" Nick exclaimed, before he could stop to think. "Only because I've bought land," Angela said hastily. "Some of California--five acres on the peninsula of Monterey--is mine! I must decide on an architect. Isn't that exciting? Then, while he's working out our joint ideas, perhaps I'll make a visit to Mrs. Harland. I'm rather tired, and I believe it will do me good."