“I think this is what it is to be in love—really,” he said, soberly.
But she had recovered her gay little self.
“If you act like that another time, I’ll stop speaking to you, Gordon,” she said, “and I’m going down to dance.”
They went down into the crowded hall, but the boy did not dance again. Going home later, he crowded into the back of a big touring car with Fliss and three other couples of boys and girls, all excited and laughing, sitting on each other’s laps and indulging in foolish little caresses and rebuffs. He did not touch Fliss.
And Fliss, still later, sat on the edge of the bed in the room of a friend where she was spending the night. It was a rather luxurious room and the two girls made a lovely picture against its background. They discussed the dance and the boys.
“Oh, they are just boys,” said Fliss, somewhat slightingly. “You’ll see a different type in the men who come to college dances, I suppose. Real men.”
“I wish you were coming to college, Fliss.”
“Too much work.”
“But if you stay on here you’ll probably just marry——”
Fliss grew suddenly angry. “That’s the second time I’ve been told that to-night and it is perfectly absurd. Why should I marry just because I don’t go to college?”