Gretchen's arm and led her along. Their table was in the back and, as Professor Bridwell had hoped, it was close by an open brick fireplace filled with a roaring blaze of crackling oak logs. She sat in silent attendance while their waiter recited, in heavily accented English, a seemingly unending speech upon the specialities of the house. 

 Gretchen lost the particulars mid-way, and her eyes strayed beyond him to the fire.  "I'm quite overwhelmed," she exclaimed when he had finished and stood poised before them.  "Please—do what you think best, Professor." 

 Professor Bridwell surprised her then, by leaning back with the casual air of one who knows what he is about, and held forth in what seemed, to Gretchen's ear, flawless French. 

 "Bravo, Professor," she chimed when he had finished.  "Your French is beautiful." 

 The professor seemed somewhat embarrassed then, and smoothly turned the conversation to the decor. The room was hardly what Gretchen should have expected of a French café—it was done in stark white, with high rafters of carved wood, but upon the walls hung gorgeously worked Persian carpets which served to bring the ceiling down and lend intimacy to the room; and to muffle the sound of so many conversing guests. Their entrees arrived in due course—a delightful poached white fish in delicate sauce, which they ate practically in silence, but for the occasional comment upon the food. He asked after her health, and heard the small-talk of the day, then listened with interest to an abridged account of her life, interjecting only occasional questions to clarify certain points. She stopped short of revealing the estrangement of her family, but dwelt upon her years at university. 

 Gretchen at length noticed the emptiness of her plate and declared that the fish positively melted in one's mouth. Professor Bridwell replied that he would send compliments to the chef. His smile grew gradually as he said this, with a hint of something further he wished to add, but he stopped. 

 "Was there something else?" she asked, setting her silver carefully atop her empty plate. 

 "No, nothing," he laughed, putting down his own silver. 

 Presently, their plates were cleared away and the professor ordered a liqueur with coffee. Gretchen declined a liqueur, having drunk enough wine already to raise her color slightly—she settled for coffee and a small gateau. 

 Prev. P 16/50 next