"Except the last one. You can see some of his ribs yet."
"You can't by June."
"No, I guess not. Say, Romie, oughtn't she to be coming to see us by now?"
"Who?"
"Isabel—what's-her-name. You know, up at Bernard's."
Happy-hearted comrade though she was, Juliet had a secret longing for feminine association, at rare intervals. It would be pleasant she thought, to go skating sometimes with a girl or two instead of the usual crowd of boys. She hated herself fiercely for disloyalty, but the idea recurred persistently.
"I'm not up on etiquette," Romeo replied, casually, "but I should think, if she wanted to come, she could do it by now. We made a polite call as far as I know."
"We didn't leave any cards."
"Cards? What kind of cards?"
"Why, little cards with our names on 'em. People always leave 'em, in the books, when they make calls."