"Well," said Harry, laughing, "we won't make you go there. Or if you do go there, we won't make you ride on the trolley cars. You can ride in hacks all the time; they go slow enough for any one."
Beatrice's first impression of Harry underwent no disillusionment as the days went on. She seemed to find in him a companion after her own heart. He had plenty of ideas of his own, and he was entirely willing to act on hers; he never affected to despise them as a girl's notions, nor did he ever object to her sharing in his amusements because of her misfortune of sex. They climbed trees and crawled through the underbrush on their stomachs together with as much zest and abandon as if there were no such things as frocks and stockings in the world. Harry had never known this kind of companionship with a girl before, and was delighted with her.
"Oh, dash, there goes my garter," she exclaimed one day as they were walking through a country lane together. She had got rather to make a point of such matters, to over-emphasize their possible embarrassment, simply in order to see how beautifully he acted.
"Well, tie it up or something," said he, sauntering on a few steps.
Beatrice did what was necessary and ran on and caught up with him.
"I never could see why a garter shouldn't be as freely talked about as any other article of clothing," said she. "All that sort of modesty is such rot; people have legs, and legs have to have stockings to cover them, and stockings have to have garters to keep them up. And women have legs, just as much as men; there's not a doubt of that. Perhaps that's news to you, though?"
"No, I knew that."
"You really, honestly aren't shocked at what I'm saying?" asked the girl, scanning his face intently.
"Not in the least; why should I be? You're not telling me anything shocking."
Beatrice drew a long breath of pure enjoyment.