And he took her hands and looked down at them, and bent and kissed them gently, and watched the little color come dancing into her face.
"Pretending you didn't care!" he said.
He crushed the two hands hard and she cried out and drew them away—and lifted them to her face and began to cry into them—little hard sobs that shook her. And he held her close and patted the troubled shoulder.
"There, there!" he said. His voice was very young and happy and surprised.
And she looked up and smiled—a queer little reddened smile—under her crooked cap.
The bell tinkled—and rang a long shrill burr.
"I shall have to go! I know I look like a fright!" She reached to the cap.
"You look dear!" said the young man exultantly.
But she was gone and he was speaking only to the white wainscoted panels of the linen-room and to the sunlight flooding in.