"You're pretty juvenile, Fancy, but you'll grow up, I think."
She was quite sober now. "Oh, there's an awful lot of time wasted in growing up," she said. Then she squirmed her head so that she could look upward at him. "You've been awfully good to me, Frank!" Her tone was wistful.
"You deserve more than you will ever get, I'm afraid," was his answer as he patted her hair.
"I think you do like me a little."
He shook his finger at her. "No fair falling in love!"
She laughed. "I believe you're afraid, Frank!"
"I don't know what I'd do without you, Fancy. We've been through a good deal together, first and last, haven't we?"
"Yes, we've had a good time. I'd like to do it all over again."
"Heavens, no!" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't! There's enough ahead. From what I've seen of life, things don't really begin to happen till you're thirty, at least. All this will seem like a dream."
"Sometimes I hope it will." Fancy was looking away, now. Her gaze returned to him after a moment of silence. "Don't you ever think of getting out of this, Frank? You're too good for these fakirs, really you are! Why, you could mix with millionaires, easy! And you've got a good start, now. They like you. You've got the style and the education and the 'know' for it."