"He's a slob—his face gives him away—and besides, Mr. Carew the other night—"
"I know," she interrupted; "Mr. Carew is sure we're all going to be ruined by your mother and the Universal Transportation Company."
"I hope you haven't put your money into anything Pettus has control of?"
"Oh, don't let's talk business on a morning like this. It's criminal—let's talk about trees and birds and flowers." She might have added "and love," for when youth and springtime meet, even on a city boulevard, love is the most important subject in the encyclopedia of life. So they walked and talked and jested in the way of young men and maidens, and Victor talked of himself, finding his life-history vastly absorbing when discussed by a tall girl with a splendid profile and a cultivated voice. He watched her buy her stamps at the drug-store, finding in her every movement something adorable. The poise of her bust and her fine head appealed to him with power; but her humor, her cool, clear gaze, checked the crude compliments which he was moved to utter. She could not be addressed as he had been accustomed to address his girl classmates at Winona.
This walk completed the severance of the ties which bound him to the university. His desire to return to his games weakened. His ambition to shine as an athlete faded. He wished to prove to this proud girl that he was neither boy nor dreamer, and that he was competent to take care of himself and his mother as well.
As they were re-entering the house, he said: "Don't utter a word of what I've told you. I'm going to test whether my mother has the power to read my mind or not."
"I understand," she returned, "and I'm glad you're going to share in our séance to-night."
He frowned. "Don't say 'séance.' I hate that word."
She laughed. "Aren't you fierce! But I'll respect your prejudices so far as an utterly unprejudiced person can."
"Do you call yourself an unprejudiced person?"