Drew also went to Deane and spoke so that Carol could not hear.
“A strange afternoon, little sister,” he said, bending over her affectionately. Then he turned around. “I’m holding a drag to-morrow night, Carol. I’d like to have you come.”
Carol’s eyes sparkled.
“Oh, Drew, I’d love it! To think!—I can come in drag!”
Drew restrained an impulse to pet the boy who was regarding him delightedly, as in some glorious enchantment.
“There is a sort of radiance about him,” he thought, half smiling at himself for thinking it. But as he left, Drew took Deane’s hand once more. “Don’t see Roberts until I talk with you,” he whispered. Deane nodded her head and Drew went into the hall.
Carol twisted his cigarette holder, put in a cigarette and lit it grandly.
“Isn’t he sweet?” he said. “Martin’s sweeter, though.... But the others!” he added with disdain. “Of course, you have your own life, Deane, so I won’t ask you why you tolerate such people about.” He sighed gratefully. “But isn’t it nice, dear, to be alone? I never could stand vulgarness. I’m really quite surprised at Mr. Roberts to let himself be upset by—” Carol thought hard, but couldn’t quite understand what he was talking about. He smiled gently though, and continued, “—to be upset by—well—just everything.” He leaned back against his chair and put his feet up on another. That was well said. He could tell from the way Deane looked that it had affected her.
Deane regarded the smiling, piggish face.
“Sometimes, Carol,” she said, thoughtfully, “I don’t understand, either.”