“They irritate him somehow. He thinks all such positions should be filled by men or boys. He says the war is over, and he wants all the girls taken off those jobs.”
“How unjust and unreasonable.”
“Uncle Herbert has both of those admirable qualities. But he’d adore you,—unless he found out you disapprove of the Buns, and then he’d turn and rend you!”
“I don’t disapprove of them,—except for you.”
“That’s what I mean,—for me.”
“Then I guess I’d better not meet Friend Bunny.”
“Oh, Dorcas, I don’t know what to do! There’s no light from any direction. There’s no hope from your mother, my aunt or Sir Herbert. If you won’t cut and run with me,—and if you’re in earnest about not meeting me secretly any more,—what can we do?”
“Nothing, Rick,—nothing at all.”
Dorcas spoke very seriously,—even sadly, and Bates realized how much in earnest she was. They were in the Park now, and by tacit consent they sat down on a bench near the Mall.
Their eyes met dumbly. Though Bates was only twenty-five and Dorcas twenty-two, they were both older than their years, and were of fine temper and innate strength of character.