"Hasn't it ever been taken out and thawed?"

"Never has and never will be."

She swayed away from him, keeping her glance on his. For a still second
a strange seriousness, having no place in the scene, held them. She was
conscious of perplexity in his face, he of something wistful and
questioning in hers. She spoke first.

"You're very curious about me, Mr. Boye Mayer?"

She ought not to have said that and it was his fault that she did. She
was no mean adversary and that she had seen through his first tentatives
proved them clumsy and annoyed him. He smiled, a smile not altogether
pleasant, and rose.

"All men must be curious where you're concerned."

"Not as bad as you."

"Ah, well, I'm a child of nature. I don't hide my feelings. I'm curious
and show it. Do you know what makes me so?"

She shook her head, anticipating flatteries. But he did not break into
them as quickly as she had expected. Turning to where his hat lay he took
it up, looked at it for a moment and then, with his gray eyes shifting to
hers, said low, as if taking her into his confidence:

"I'm curious because you're interesting. I think you're the most
interesting thing I've seen since I came to San Francisco."