Marjorie sighed.
“Hallo! Been reading poetry?”
“No,” said the girl, in a low, pained voice. “I was thinking.”
“Thinking, eh? What about?”
“Of how changed you are from the nice frank boy who used to be so loving and tender.”
“Ah, I was rather a milksop, Madge; wasn’t I?”
“I never thought so; and it pains me to hear you speak so harshly of yourself. What has made you alter so?”
“Ask Dame Nature. I was a boy; now I am a man.”
Marjorie sighed, and gave him a long, sad look.
“Well,” he said, “what is the matter?”