“Well, I didn’t believe she meant it. Did you?” To Miss Gerald.
“That’s telling,” said Gwendoline, and looked so inviting in that wonderful opera costume, so white and tall and alluring, so many other things calculated to fire a young man’s soul, that Bob had difficulty not to resort to extreme masculine measures to make her tell.
“Hope you have a pleasant evening,” observed dad politely as they went out together, a couple the neighbors might well find excuse to stare at.
“Oh, I guess we’ll manage to pull through,” said Bob.
Their first evening out all alone by themselves in great, big gay New York! It was nice and shadowy, too, in the big limousine where the dim light spiritualized the girl’s beauty.
“Tell now,” he urged, “what I asked you in there?”
“Did I mean it?” Her starry eyes met his. “Perhaps a little bit. But I’m glad you didn’t accept. I’m glad it came out the other way,” she laughed.
Bob forgot there was a possibility of some one peering in and seeing them. Those laughing lips were such a tremendous lure. Then they both sat very still. Wheels sang around them; there was magic in the air.
“Just think of it!” said Bob with sudden new elation.
“What?”