"Did they convince you?"

"Mr. Armine! Now, did you ever know a woman convinced of anything by
argument?"

He laughed.

"Then you still believe that you have an immortal soul?"

"More, far more, than ever."

She was laughing, too. But, quite suddenly, the laughter died out of
her, and she said, with an earnest face:

"I wouldn't let any one--any one--take some of my beliefs from me."

The tone of her voice was almost fierce in its abrupt doggedness.

"I must have some coffee," she added, with a complete change of tone. "I
sleep horribly badly, and that's why I take coffee. Mere perversity!
Three black coffees, waiter."

"Not for me!" said Meyer Isaacson.

"You must, for once. I hate doing things alone. There is no pleasure in
anything unless some one shares it. At least"--she looked at
Armine--"that is what every woman thinks."

"Then how unhappy lots of women must be," he said.