from the standpoint of his cherished technique.  “Just enough ‘white space,’” he thought, “to set off her eyes as the ‘centre of interest.’  Her features aren’t this modern bold-face stuff, set solid,” he said to himself, thinking typographically.  “They’re rather French old-style italic, slightly leaded.  Set on 22-point body, I guess.  Old man Chapman’s a pretty good typefounder, you have to hand it to him.”

He smiled at this conceit, seized hat and coat, and dashed out of the lunchroom.

Mrs. Mifflin and Titania had halted a few yards up the street, and were looking at some pert little bonnets in a window.  Aubrey hurried across the street, ran up to the next corner, recrossed, and walked down the eastern pavement.  In this way he would meet them as though he were coming from the subway.  He felt rather more excited than King Albert re-entering Brussels.  He saw them coming, chattering together in the delightful fashion of women out on a spree.  Helen seemed much younger in the company of her companion.  “A lining of pussy-willow taffeta and an embroidered slip-on,” she was saying.

Aubrey steered onto them with an admirable gesture of surprise.

“Well, I never!” said Mrs. Mifflin.  “Here’s Mr. Gilbert.  Were you coming to see Roger?” she added, rather enjoying the young man’s predicament.

Titania shook hands cordially.  Aubrey, searching the old-style italics with the desperate intensity of a proof-reader, saw no evidence of chagrin at seeing him again so soon.

“Why,” he said rather lamely, “I was coming to see you all.  I—­I wondered how you were getting along.”

Mrs. Mifflin had pity on him.  “We’ve left Mr. Mifflin to look after the shop,” she said.  “He’s busy with some of his old crony customers.  Why don’t you come with us to the movies?”

“Yes, do,” said Titania.  “It’s Mr. and Mrs. Sidney Drew, you know how adorable they are!”

No one needs to be told how quickly Aubrey assented.  Pleasure coincided with duty in that the outer wing of the party placed him next to Titania.

“Well, how do you like bookselling?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s the greatest fun!” she cried.  “But it’ll take me ever and ever so long to learn about all the books.  People ask such questions!  A woman came in this afternoon looking for a copy of Blase Tales.  How was I to know she wanted The Blazed Trail?”

“You’ll get used to that,” said Mrs. Mifflin.  “Just a minute, people, I want to stop in at the drug store.”

They went into Weintraub’s pharmacy.  Entranced as he was by the proximity of Miss Chapman, Aubrey noticed that the druggist eyed him rather queerly.  And being of a noticing habit, he also observed that when Weintraub had occasion to write out a label for a box of powdered alum Mrs. Mifflin was buying, he did so with a pale violet ink.

At the glass sentry-box in front of the theatre Aubrey insisted on buying the tickets.