Part 6

"German?"

She laughed and pointed her fork at him. "Not only German--chansons as well."

"I'm relieved to hear it." Professor Bridwell then put one hand into his pocket, and withdrew his silver cigarette case. "Would you mind, Miss Haviland, if I smoke?"

"Of course not," she replied.

"Some ladies find it offensive," he said, opening the case slowly, "but I find it the perfect finish to a delightful meal."

"I couldn't agree more." Gretchen pushed away her plate--the gateau though small, was simply too rich--and sat back upon her chair. Cigarettes had always appealed to her, and she indulged on occasion herself--in private. Cigars she could not abide, however, for they reminded her too much of her father's odious acquaintances--men who came to play cards each week throughout her childhood. "If I might ask," she said quietly, folding her hands the table, "how do you feel about women smoking, Professor?"

He paused, with the open case upon the table before him and looked steadily into her eyes. "Miss Haviland," he answered, "we are living in an enlightened age, are we not? Women's suffrage--and frankly, it will happen soon, I'm sure. University educations--such as your own."

She nodded, but let him continue. He studied the top of the cigarette case with some care. From the side, a hovering waiter produced a shallow ashtray of white china and set it near his elbow.

"I have no objection," he continued, "to a woman pursuing whatever takes her fancy, provided she's reached majority. The same as any man." He fingered the cigarette case, closing and then opening it again. "A strong and independent mind is an asset in anyone, male or female." He looked up hesitantly. "You seem to have such a mind. You've read Mr. Darwin, I believe--and I suspect other progressive thinkers as well."

Gretchen smiled at him, but tilted her head with some puzzlement.

"You once called me more evolved," he replied answering her unspoken question. "That's hardly the sort of phrase an unread woman would use. I presumed you have read Mr. Darwin, among others." He curled his lips upon seeing her amusement and continued speaking. "It is the mind, I believe--and the soul, if one is religiously inclined--that really distinguishes man from the lesser animals. Female no less than male--we all possess that most human of traits."

His extensive reply was more favorable and pointed than she would have thought possible. It pleased her, and confirmed a great deal that she had sensed about him. "Then you won't mind at all if I join you?"

"By all means," he returned without hesitation, holding the silver case toward her. She deftly removed a cigarette, and tamping it upon her fingernail twice, held it out for him to light. She bent back her wrist and let it dangle between her long fingers while he lit his own cigarette.

"Now that we've learned all about me," she said, blowing a thin stream of smoke away, "perhaps you'll tell me about yourself, Professor."

"Please," he said, setting the ashtray in the middle of the table, "do call me Antoine. We needn't be so formal, I think."

She laughed quietly. "Antoine."

"My mother was French," he stated quietly.

Gretchen caught his use of the past tense, but did not inquire further. "No doubt she is the source of your excellent French."

"Maman did speak French to me as a child--but my French is quite poor for anything but domestic conversation."

"From what little I speak," she replied, drawing on her cigarette, "you sounded quite fluent." She let the smoke linger on her lips, then blew it away softly.

"Why thank you for the compliment...Miss Haviland."

"Oh, dear," she said, realizing what she had neglected. "My Christian name is Gretchen."

"Gretchen Haviland," he repeated slowly. "That has quite a satisfactory ring to it."

She complimented him on the quality of the tobacco when they were finished smoking. The hour was past nine o'clock, so they left the café and walked into the street. The fog had descended, lower and thicker than before. Occasional carriages appeared, rumbling quietly along. Tatters of mist blew sluggishly past the gaslights.

"I hope you shall allow me the pleasure of escorting you home this evening?" he asked as they walked.

"I should be honored."

He held out his elbow, and she slipped her gloved hand over his forearm. They walked in silence toward her rooming house, both enjoying the quiet of the evening. It seemed much warmer than before, and Gretchen thought a snow was about to fall. The air had the crisp scent of impending snow.

"I am delighted," Professor Bridwell said after a while, "that you were not busy this evening. Surely you must have so many friends. Other engagements."