“And I just want to know,” he continued, “if you’re always going to do things that hurt.”
“How do I know?” she retorted, facing him. “If you don’t like things I do, why then, you’ve got to discipline me.”
“Discipline you!” he exclaimed. “Why I hadn’t even thought of disciplining you.”
“Because,” she interrupted without heeding his words, “I don’t know what it is that sometimes plays the devil with me, and I’ve got to be disciplined. I’ve been like a boat without a rudder. My greatest need has been for some one to steer me.”
“Tell me, Freda, who were you with at the dance?”
“Ted Courtney,” she quickly answered.
His eyes opened wide, then grew thoughtful. “Do you mean that he—that Courtney took you to the dance?”
“Yes.”
He was silent a moment, studying the palm of his hand. “But I never dreamed that you even liked him,” he said at length.
“I don’t either, Mauney.”