“I don’t think she saw them last night, and I didn’t mention it. But Clarice wouldn’t care, as long as she had somebody to step out with. It’s a case of some boy with her, not any particular one,” replied Hazel, getting up and dropping her purse just outside the stall.
At the same moment a youth, leaving the next stall, picked up the purse and handed it to her.
“Thank you,” murmured Hazel, glancing up at the man.
To her amazement and distress, she looked full into the pale grey eyes of Norman Young.
“Going back to college?” he asked, looking first at Hazel and then at Patricia, who had just slipped out of her seat.
“Yes,” replied Patricia briefly, when Hazel did not respond.
“So am I. Guess I’ll walk along with you, if you don’t mind,” continued the boy, following them out of the shop.
Once on the street, he began to talk about the Greystone game.
“There’s a lot of money up on that game,” he remarked. “Not only among the students, but also among the townsfolk. Greystone has a player almost as famous as our Dunn, and the betting between the two factions is heavy. If Dunn were to be out of the game for any reason—”
“What would be likely to keep him out?” inquired Hazel sharply, while Patricia listened breathlessly.