"Oh, listen to him! Wouldn't it make a dog laugh!" Then, swaying on her chair, she leaned toward him, grave but with her eyes twinkling. "Mr. Man, you can't read me for a cent. Right here," she touched her heart with a finger tip, "it's frozen hard. I keep it in cold storage." "Hasn't it ever been taken out and thawed?" "Never has and never will be." She swayed away from him, keeping her glance on his. For a still second a strange seriousness, having no place in the scene, held them. She was conscious of perplexity in his face, he of something wistful and questioning in hers. She spoke first. "You're very curious about me, Mr. Boye Mayer?" She ought not to have said that and it was his fault that she did. She was no mean adversary and that she had seen through his first tentatives proved them clumsy and annoyed him. He smiled, a smile not altogether pleasant, and rose. "All men must be curious where you're concerned." "Not as bad as you." "Ah, well, I'm a child of nature. I don't hide my feelings. I'm curious and show it. Do you know what makes me so?" She shook her head, anticipating flatteries. But he did not break into them as quickly as she had expected. Turning to where his hat lay he took it up, looked at it for a moment and then, with his gray eyes shifting to hers, said low, as if taking her into his confidence: "I'm curious because you're interesting. I think you're the most interesting thing I've seen since I came to San Francisco." This was even more than she had hoped for. An unfamiliar bashfulness made her look away from the gray eyes and stammer in rough deprecation: "Oh, cut it out!" "I never cut out the truth. But I'm going to cut out myself. It's time for me to be moving on. Good-by." His hand was extended and she put hers into it, feeling the light pressure of his cool, dry fingers. She did not know what to say, wanted to ask him to come again, but feared, in her new self-consciousness, it wasn't the stylish thing to do. "I'm real glad you called," was the nearest she dared. He was at the door and turned, hopefully smiling. "Are you?" "Sure," she murmured. "Then why don't you ask me to come again?" "I thought that was up to you." He again was unable to decide whether her coyness was an expression of embarrassment or an accomplished artfulness, but he inclined to the latter opinion. "Right O! I'll come soon, in a few days. _Hasta manana_, fair lady."