and partake of a simple and solitary repast—two poached eggs and a muffin—at Pratt's Hotel."
"May I not dine with you?" Ralph asked.
"No, you will dine at your club."
They had wandered back to their chairs in the centre of the square again, and Ralph had lighted his cigarette. It would have given him extreme pleasure to be present in person at the modest little feast she had sketched; but in default of this he liked even being forbidden. For the moment, however, he liked immensely being alone with her, in the thickening dusk, in the centre of the multitudinous town; it made her seem to depend upon him and to be in his power. This power he could exert but vaguely; the best exercise of it was to accept her decisions submissively. There was almost an emotion in doing so.
"Why won't you let me dine with you?" he asked, after a pause.
"Because I don't care for it."
"I suppose you are tired of me."
"I shall be an hour hence. You see I have the gift of fore-knowledge."
"Oh, I shall be delightful meanwhile," said Ralph. But he said nothing more, and as Isabel made no rejoinder, they sat some time in silence which seemed to contradict his promise of entertainment. It seemed to him that she was preoccupied, and he wondered what she was thinking about; there were two or three very possible subjects. At last he spoke again. "Is your objection to my society this evening caused by your expectation of another visitor?"
She turned her head with a glance of her clear, fair eyes.
"Another visitor? What visitor should I have?"
