"They drink and dance and eat, all by themselves! They take up the rugs and turn on the music and—and I don't know what they do!—I—d-don't know—I don't—I don't——!"
Her head fell into her hands; she stood rigid, her body shaken by emotions too unhappy, too new, too vague for her youthful analysis.
"I—I can't bear to think of him that way——" she stammered, "—he was so straight and clean—so clean——"
"Some men drift a little—sometimes——"
"They say so.... I don't know. I am too miserable about him—too unhappy——"
She choked back a sob, and the slender hands that covered her eyes slowly clenched.
Helen looked at her in consternation. Girls don't usually betray so much emotion over some casual irregularity of a brother.
Stephanie pressed her clenched hands mutely against her lids for a while, then, her lips still quivering, she reached for her brush and began to groom her splendid hair again.
And Helen, watching her without a word, thought to self:
"She behaves as though she were falling in love with him.... She'd certainly better be careful. The boy is already in love with her, no matter how he acts.... If she isn't very, very careful she'll get into trouble with him."