As he walked along Mt. Alban's quietest and prettiest street toward the bank a peculiar sense of loneliness and guilt possessed him. He suggested to himself that he only regarded Julia as a friend, and that knowing people like the Waterseas was necessary to his success as a banker. Of course he intended to pay his way along; he would always give Julia candy and take her out, in return for her kindness to him. The thought that he might be involving her in one of those attachments more easily made than broken did not enter Evan's head. He was too inexperienced to worry over such matters. Others were too experienced.
Telepathic waves reached him from Hometon. He saw Frankie's face clearly outlined inside the Little Dipper. He remembered his words to her, words containing a promise. Yes, indeed, he would be true—
But still he felt the warmth of Julia's hand. Why had he taken it in his, and why had he felt buoyant when she blushed?
He was vaguely conscious of a conflict in his heart. Yet he swore to himself that everything would be all right. Young men are usually quite sure that nothing unpleasant can come of anything.
Bill Watson was sitting in the manager's office when Evan entered. He greeted the savings man with a puff of smoke followed by no words.
"Something new for you to be in so early, Bill," said Evan.
Bill opened his mouth in the shape of a cave, and kept the white smoke revolving within it—like some sort of mysterious and legendary white fleece.
"How did she like the chocolates?" he said suddenly.
"They seemed to go all right."
Bill puffed a while.