" "May I trust you?" cried Thames, eagerly. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. “Yes, I remember,” she said. She could not help devouring him a little with her eyes across the Burger King booth, handsome shoulders visibly solid underneath his ridiculous polo shirt, his eyes all sweetness and light.
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