“Yes,” said Clarence dubiously.
“And we'll go to an ice-cream saloon now, shan't we? There's a nice one near the hotel. I've got some money,” she added quickly, as Clarence looked embarrassed.
“So have I,” said Clarence, with a faint accession of color. “Let's go!” She had relinquished his hand to smooth out her frock, and they were walking side by side at a more moderate pace. “But,” he continued, clinging to his first idea with masculine persistence, and anxious to assure his companion of his power, of his position, “I'm in the college, and Father Sobriente, who knows your lady superior, is a good friend of mine and gives me privileges; and—and—when he knows that you and I used to play together—why, he'll fix it that we may see each other whenever we want.”
“Oh, you silly!” said Susy. “WHAT!—when you're—”
“When I'm WHAT?”
The young girl shot a violet blue ray from under her broad hat. “Why—when we're grown up now?” Then with a certain precision, “Why, they're VERY particular about young gentlemen! Why, Clarence, if they suspected that you and I were—” Another violet ray from under the hat completed this unfinished sentence.
Pleased and yet confused, Clarence looked straight ahead with deepening color. “Why,” continued Susy, “Mary Rogers, that was walking with me, thought you were ever so old—and a distinguished Spaniard! And I,” she said abruptly—“haven't I grown? Tell me, Clarence,” with her old appealing impatience, “haven't I grown? Do tell me!”
“Very much,” said Clarence.
“And isn't this frock pretty—it's only my second best—but I've a prettier one with lace all down in front; but isn't this one pretty, Clarence, tell me?”
Clarence thought the frock and its fair owner perfection, and said so. Whereat Susy, as if suddenly aware of the presence of passers-by, assumed an air of severe propriety, dropped her hands by her side, and with an affected conscientiousness walked on, a little further from Clarence's side, until they reached the ice-cream saloon.