"
The girl was smiling at him again. "I wasn't thinking of
those things," said she. "I've never been to the Brevoort."
"It's quiet and respectable."
Susan's eyes twinkled. "I'm glad it's respectable," said she.
"Are you quite sure _you_ can afford to be seen with _me?_ It's
true they don't make the fuss about right and wrong side of
the line that they did a few years ago. They've gotten a
metropolitan morality. Still--I'm not respectable and never
shall be."
"Don't be too hasty about that," protested he, gravely. "But
wait till you hear my proposition."
As they walked through West Ninth Street she noted that there
was more of a physical change in him than she had seen at
first glance. He was less athletic, heavier of form and his
face was fuller. "You don't keep in as good training as you
used," said she.
"It's those infernal automobiles," cried he. "They're death
to figure--to health, for that matter. But I've got the
habit, and I don't suppose I'll ever break myself of it. I've
taken on twenty pounds in the past year, and I've got myself
so upset that the doctor has ordered me abroad to take a cure.
Then there's champagne. I can't let that alone, either,
though I know it's plain poison."
And when they were in the restaurant of the Brevoort he
insisted on ordering champagne--and left her for a moment to
telephone for his automobile. It amused her to see a man so
masterful thus pettily enslaved.
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