Wednesday glanced around, and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I like it too. I eat here a lot with the girls.”

After a moment, Fabian picked up a menu. “I suppose you don’t mind if I order for both of us?” he inquired. “The chef is used to my tastes. He’ll treat us right.”

The girl frowned. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Balik, but—”

“Yes?” he said encouragingly, though he was more than surprised. He hadn’t expected anything but compliance. After all, she was probably palpitating at being out with him.

“I’d like to order for myself,” she said. “I’m on a—a special diet.”

He raised his eyebrows and was pleased at the way she blushed. He nodded slowly, with dignity, letting his displeasure come through in the way he pronounced his words. “Very well, as you please.”

A few moments later, though, curiosity got too strong and broke through the ice. “What kind of diet is that? Fresh-fruit salad, a glass of tomato juice, raw cabbage, and a baked potato? You can’t be trying to lose weight if you eat potatoes.”

Wednesday smiled timidly. “I’m not trying to reduce, Mr. Balik. Those are all foods rich in Vitamin C. I need a lot of Vitamin C.”

Fabian remembered her smile. There had been a few spots of more-than-natural whiteness in it. “Bad teeth?” he inquired.

“Bad teeth and—” Her tongue came out and paused for a thoughtful second between her lips. “Mostly bad teeth,” she said. “This is a nice place. There’s a restaurant almost like it near where I live. Of course it’s a lot cheaper—”

“Do you live with your parents, Miss Gresham?”

“No, I live alone. I’m an orphan.”

He waited until the waiter had deposited the first course, then speared a bit of the shrimp and returned to the attack. “Since when?”

She stared at him over her fresh-fruit salad. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Balik?”

“Since when? How long have you been an orphan?”