The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. After a careful search below, he could detect no trace of Blueskin. Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad. Still, one has to be reasonable. Some few of the individuals seated at the other tables seemed to take an interest in the proceedings of Blueskin and his party, just as a bystander watches any other game; but, generally speaking, the company were too much occupied with their own concerns to pay attention to anything else. I’ll try to stay as long as I can. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. Kneebone said, just now. She was watching him intently.
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