“Maybe they have been led to think that’s the only atmosphere that can exist between a man and a girl, by their experience with girls.”
“I wonder why it is,” she mused, “that sooner or later the blame always comes back to us.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you defend your sex; girls so often think it’s a good line to be witty about girls. When ever I hear a girl say she doesn’t like other girls, I look for something wrong with her.”
“You’re always lecturing!” she cried. “Ever since I first met you, you’ve lectured about something!”
He laughed. “I certainly take a long way around saying that I would like you as a friend!”
“I said the same thing myself, a long while ago; so let’s stop arguing about friendship between man and woman, and be it!”
Their minds were not on their argument. Joy was thinking how rushed, or distracted, “or something,” she must have always been, not to notice before how good looking he was. But of course he wasn’t tall, and tall men were “her type.” “He’s a blond, and I’m a blonde,” she told herself. “We’re not the ‘opposites that attract,’ but we can be good friends, just the same.”
If he could have read her thoughts, he would have used them as further proof for his argument; but since one of Joy’s greatest assets was the power of preserving a sweet, listening attitude no matter what went on beneath, he was kept busy, thinking up general subjects to discuss with this anomaly among the girls, one who did not take the initiative in conversation.
When he rose to go, they felt as if they were very old friends already, having matched opinions, likes and dislikes for nearly an hour.
“Remember, this isn’t your last appearance,” said Joy.