45 a second interlude for the solving of
the last difficulties of the night. The old rule of the dining-room, the
_Silence_ sign, had been necessarily suspended, but the young man
enforced his schedule of hours far more strictly than the average
railroad.
"Nine o'clock," he announced presently. "Bring me your difficulties."
Fifi's brain was at low ebb to-night. She came around with several
books, and he jabbed his pencil at her open Cicero with some contempt.
"You have a fundamental lack of acquaintance with Latin grammar,
Miss--Miss Fifi. You badly need--"
"Why don't you call me Fifi, Mr. Queed? That's what all my friends call
me."
He stared at her startled; she thought his eyes looked almost terrified.
"My dear young lady! _I'm_ not your friend."
A rare color sprang into Fifi's pallid cheeks: "I--I thought you liked
me--from your being so good about helping me with my lessons--and
everything."
Queed cleared his throat. "I do like you--in a way. Yes--in that way--I
like you very well. I will call you F--Fifi, if you wish. But--friends!
Oh, no! They take up more time than such a man as I can afford.
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