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What he'd been prepared to urge was that now that his connection with
the enterprise had terminated, now that he was no longer a director and
the representative of her employers, she should take him on trust simply
as a friend. He was prepared to answer protests, to offer
compromises--concessions to appearances. He'd expected her to exhibit
some shyness of the taxi. According to his unconscious ideal of the
situation she should have looked questioningly at him--hesitated, and
then let him assure her that it was all right. She should have gasped a
little when the car turned south in the dark little court below Van
Buren Street, have shrunk a little at the isolation the emptiness of the
restaurant enforced upon them, and declined, with something not far
short of panic, her share of that bottle of Burgundy. Because all these
flutters and questionings would just have opened the way for his
assurances--perfectly honest assurances, too, as far as he knew--of the
candor of his feelings and intentions toward her.


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