"Is this where you live?" he asked. "You brought me here last night?"

"You brought me," she amended.

He frowned over that but didn't take it in. The next moment though he
sat up suddenly and after a struggle with the giddiness this movement
caused, asked, "Who else is here? Where's the other girl that lives
with you?"

"She's not here now," Mary said. "We are all by ourselves."

He rose unsteadily to his feet. "I've got to get out of here quick. If
anybody came in ..."

"Rush, dearest!" she entreated. "Don't be silly. Lie down again--Well,
then take that easy chair. Nobody will come in." Then over his air of
resolute remorse she cried, on the edge of tears herself, "Oh, _please_
don't be so unhappy. Do let's settle down and be comfy together. I don't
have to go to the office to-day. My job's just about played out. But
nobody ever comes here to see me in the daytime. And it wouldn't matter
if they did."

But this change of attitude was clearly beyond him. "I'll have to ask you
to tell me what happened last night. You were there at that restaurant
with friends of yours I suppose. I must have disgraced you up to the hilt
with them. I should think you'd hate the sight of me."

"You didn't disgrace me at all," she contradicted, and now the tears did
came into her eyes. "They knew I was expecting you and I told Mr. Baldwin
who you were. You came up in the nicest way and asked me to dance and