"Pat, you're all wrong. It's girls like you and me that cannot be trusted. I—I didn't know myself that was the trouble. Pat—you mustn't—think what you are thinking—you are mistaken."
"I saw him—on the stairs," gasped Patricia.
"Suppose you did?"
"Joan, do you know what time it is?"
"No. I do not care. It takes time to have the world tumble about your ears."
"You—you—do not—love him, do you?"
Joan paused and considered this as if it were a startlingly new idea.
"Love him?—why, no. I'm sure I don't. But, Pat, what is it that seems like love, but isn't—you're sure it isn't—but it hurts and almost kills you?"
The two young faces confronted each other blankly.
"I don't know," Patricia said.