She nodded absently. She had sunk into a momentary reverie, from which
he did not arouse her until she suddenly looked at her watch. "Why,
it's after twelve!" she exclaimed, with more animation than she had
yet shown. "We'll go to Delmonico's or Sherry's for luncheon, and make
our programme while we're there."

He started, and leaned forward, fixing his eyes on her, but she did
not meet them. She replaced her watch in her belt with a successful
assumption of abstraction, but she was full of doubt as to how he
would take this first proposition. The next instant the bench trembled
under the force with which he had dropped back on it.

"God!" he cried, hoarsely, "it's all a put-up job to feed me because
you suspect I'm hungry! No, you don't even suspect--you _know_ I'm
hungry!"

She put her hand on his arm, and the gesture silenced him.

"Be quiet," she said. "Suppose you are hungry? What of it? Is it a
disgrace to be hungry? Men and women deliberately cultivate the
condition! Come," she ended, as she rose abruptly, "keep to your
bargain. We both need our luncheon."

He replaced the purse in the inside-pocket of his coat, and rose. They
walked a few moments without a word. She noticed how well he carried
himself and how muscular and athletic his figure appeared even in its
shabby clothes. As they strolled toward the nearest exit she talked of
the Park, and asked him a few matter-of-fact questions, to which he
replied with growing animation. "I can't give you figures and
statistics, I'm afraid," he added, smiling.