She said it banteringly, as if she dared him to give the reason. His eyes came back from their distant groping, meeting hers with gentle boldness. So for a little while he looked silently into her appealing eyes, then turned away.
“Maybe, Joan, because it is the easiest lesson to learn and the hardest to forget,” he said.
Joan bent her gaze upon the ground, a flush tinting her brown face, plucking at the grass with aimless fingers.
“Anyway, we’ve passed it,” said she.
“No, it recurs all through the book; it’s something that can’t be left out of it, any more than it can be left out of life. Well, it doesn’t need to trouble you and me.”
“No; we could use some other word,” said Joan, turning her face away.
“But mean the same, Joan. I had an old maid English teacher when I was a boy who made us conjugate to like instead of the more intimate and tender word. Poor old soul! I hope it saved her feelings and eased her regrets.”
“Maybe she’d had a romance,” said Joan.
“I hope so; there’s at least one romance coming to every woman in this world. If she misses it she’s being cheated.”