added. "I said to my sister last week, 'That lady has been married
nearly six years!' 'What!' she said, 'That little girl of
eighteen--!'"

"Why--why don't you come and have lunch with me, at the
'Pheasant'?" Cherry said, suddenly, pushing up the golden hair
under her hat.

"I'd love it," Miss Maloney said, appreciatively, "but Doctor has
a one o'clock appointment after this one, and I shan't get a bite
until nearly three. I've got crackers here--"

Cherry went out into the blazing street; it was one of the hot
noontides of the year. At two o'clock a wild wind would spring up,
and send papers and dust flying, but just now the heat was dry and
clear and still.

She was carrying a parasol, and she opened it now and walked
slowly toward Geary Street. She could go and have a cup of tea and
a salad at the Pheasant--she could go to the Pheasant--

But she made not the slightest effort to go there. Beyond saying
the words, she had no intention of doing so. She could not even
frame in her thoughts the utter blankness of the feeling that
swept over her at missing an opportunity to see Peter. She turned
and went slowly up past the big shop windows that reflected the
burning Plaza, and so came to the cool, great doorway of the St.
Francis. Inside was tempered light and much noiseless coming and
going, meeting and parting. Chinese boys in plum colour and pale
blue went about with dustpans gathering fallen cigar and cigarette