“How do you do?” she said, giving him her hand, and holding it rather high, in the English way, which seemed excessively formal to Nick.  “I’m glad to see you again.”

Nick’s heart went down.  Her voice did not sound glad.  This was just what he had expected, though not what he had hoped.  She had changed toward him the day they parted, and though she had flung him a word of encouragement, evidently she had gone on changing more and more.  There seemed little good in asking what he had come to ask; but he had to get through with it now.

“I guess I don’t need to tell you I’m glad to see you,” he said.  He looked at that nimbus round her head, as she stood with her back to the window.  He could say no more, though he had meant to add something.

“What are you thinking about?” she questioned him almost sharply.

Nick laughed, embarrassed.  “I was thinking some words that sound like poetry—­or no, they were thinking themselves.  Night in her eyes, morning in her hair!  Because standing like you do, Mrs. May, a kind of gold powder wreath seems to be floating around your head.”

She laughed too.  “You must have been reading poetry since I left you!”

“No, that came out of my head.  But I’ve been thinking a whole lot.  About a good many things—­only most of them were about you, or came back to you if they didn’t begin there.  Don’t you know how one idea can sort of run through all your thoughts?”

“I know,” said Angela.  Just so had the idea of him been running through all her thoughts these last few days.  “But,” she added with an effort, “why should you have been thinking of me?  We’re such—­new friends.”

“Yes,” Nick admitted, “but you can’t always account for your thoughts.”

“Of course not.  And I’m grateful for a few of yours.  Have you been enjoying San Francisco?  Do sit down.  And would you mind putting on the electricity?”

“Must I?  It’s beautiful like this.”

“Very well.  Leave it so.”

She sat on a sofa, still with her back to the window, and Nick took a chair facing the light.

“I’ve had a feeling on me of waiting,” said Nick.  “Just that.  I haven’t gone around much, though this is the first time I’ve been in San Francisco, except for a day, since the city’s grown up after the fire.  I was waiting to see if you’d let me show you things, as you——­”

“As I—­what?” Angela asked, when he paused.

“I was going to say, as you partly promised.  But that wouldn’t be fair, because you didn’t really promise anything.”

If he had claimed a right, it would have been easy to say that it didn’t exist, but he made things harder by claiming nothing.  Still, she went on:  “No, of course, I couldn’t promise.  As I’m situated now, it’s difficult to make plans.  However, if you’ve really waited for me, it was kind, and there’s no reason why I shouldn’t ask you to show me San Francisco.