"If you will let me."

"Do. I am very much alone too, as perhaps you know?" Miss De Voe did not
choose to say that her rooms could be filled nightly and that
everywhere she was welcome.

"No. I really know nothing about you, except what you have told me, and
what I have seen."

Miss De Voe laughed merrily at Peter's frankness. "I feel as if I knew
all about you," she said.

"But you have asked questions," replied Peter.

Miss De Voe caught her breath again. Try as she would, she could not get
accustomed to Peter. All her social experience failed to bridge the
chasm opened by his speech. "What did he mean by that plain statement,
spoken in such a matter-of-fact voice?" she asked herself. Of course the
pause could not continue indefinitely, and she finally said: "I have
lived alone ever since my father's death. I have relatives, but prefer
to stay here. I am so much more independent. I suppose I shall have to
move some day. This part of the city is beginning to change so." Miss De
Voe was merely talking against time, and was not sorry when Peter shook
hands, and left her alone.

"He's very different from most men," she said to the blazing logs. "He
is so uncomplimentary and outspoken! How can he succeed in politics?
Still, after the conventional society man he is--he is--very refreshing.
I think I must help him a little socially."