“Post office?” Bruce repeated. “I haven’t been near the place for weeks!”
“That will do from you!” warned Helen. “We all thought you’d be a real addition to our sad social efforts here, but it’s evident you don’t like us. It’s very discouraging. You were at Connie’s, though, to hear her lion roar. I saw you across the room. Connie always gets the men! Your friend Bud insulted everybody there; I see him selling any more Plantagenets!”
“Bud’s patriotism leads him astray sometimes; that’s all. Any more scolding, Millicent?” Bruce asked. “Let me see—we had arrived at the stage of first names, hadn’t we?”
“Yes, Bruce! But after the long separation it might be as well to go back to the beginning. As for scolding, let’s consider that we’ve signed an armistice.”
“I don’t like the military lingo; it sounds as though there had been war between us.”
“Dear me!” Helen interposed mournfully. “You’re not going to spend the whole evening in preliminaries! Let’s go out to dinner.”
After they were seated Bruce was still rather more self-conscious than was comfortable. Nothing had happened; or more truthfully, nothing had happened except that he had been keeping away from Millicent because of Franklin Mills. She evidently was not displeased to see him again. He had not realized how greatly he had missed her till her voice touched chords that had vibrated at their first meeting. Her eyes had the same steady light and kindled responsively to any demand of mirth; her hair had the same glint of gold. He marveled anew at her poise and ease. Tonight her gown, of a delicate shade of crimson, seemed a subdued reflection of her bright coloring. He floundered badly in his attempts to bring some spirit to the conversation. It seemed stupid to ask Millicent about her music or inquire how her modeling was coming on or what she had been reading. He listened with forced attention while she and Helen compared notes on recent social affairs in which they had participated.
“Millie, you don’t really like going about—teas and that sort of thing,” said Helen. “I know you don’t. All you girls who have ideas are like that.”
“Ideas! Dearest Helen, are you as easily deceived as that! Sometimes there are things I’d rather do than go to parties! Does one really have to keep going to avoid seeming queer?”
“I go because I haven’t the brains to do anything else. I like wandering with the herd. It just thrills me to get into a big jam. And I suppose I show myself whenever I’m asked for fear I’ll be forgotten!”