"I would rather have you go driving with her, though."
"Why, Lois? That's ridiculous. I like to go with Mr. Dillwyn."
"Don't like it too well."
"How can I like it too well?"
"So much that you would miss it, when you do not have it any longer."
"Miss it!" said Madge, half angrily. "I might miss it, as I might miss any pleasant thing; but I could stand that. I'm not a chicken just out of the egg. I have missed things before now, and it hasn't killed me."
"Don't think I am foolish, Madge. It isn't a question of how much you can stand. But the men like—like this one—are so pleasant with their graceful, smooth ways, that country girls like you and me might easily be drawn on, without knowing it, further than they want to go."
"He does not want to draw anybody on!" said Madge indignantly.
"That's the very thing. You might think—or I might think—that pleasant manner means something; and it don't mean anything."
"I don't want it to 'mean anything,' as you say; but what has our being country girls to do with it?"