She would see.

It was her last card.

But during all the rest of the meal she saw the picture of a muscular sun-tanned youth carrying that pretty unconscious thing down the incline to a car, and, all against her will, she was sorry.

That girl, pampered as she was, outside the big ring of hard daily effort and sordid struggle as she always had had the luck to be, loved, too.

Gee, it was a queer world.
The stoop called them when they left the boxlike dining room.