Part 14 (1/2)
”How odd! I never dreamed you thought that of me when I stood there looking at you, utterly lost in admiration--”
”Oh, come, Athalie!” he laughed; ”you are getting back at me!”
”It's true. I thought you the most wonderful boy I had ever seen.”
”Until I disillusioned you,” he said.
”You never did, C. Bailey, Junior.”
”What! Not when I proved a piker?”
But she only smiled into his amused and challenging eyes and slowly shook her head.
Once or twice, mechanically, he had slipped a flat gold cigarette case from his pocket, and then, mechanically still, had put it back. Not accustomed to modern men of his caste she had not paid much attention to the unconscious hint of habit. Now as he did it again it occurred to her to ask him why he did not smoke.
”May I?”
”Yes. I like it.”
”Do you smoke?”
”No--now and then when I'm troubled.”
”Is that often?” he asked lightly.
”Very seldom,” she replied, amused; ”and the proof is that I never smoked more than half a dozen cigarettes in all my life.”
”Will you try one now?” he asked mischievously.
”I'm not in trouble, am I?”
”I don't know. _I_ am.”
”What troubles you, C. Bailey, Junior?” she asked, humorously.
”My disinclination to leave. And it's after eleven.”
”If you never get into any more serious trouble than that,” she said, ”I shall not worry about you.”
”Would you worry if I were in trouble?”
”Naturally.”
”Why?”
”Why? Because you are my friend. Why shouldn't I worry?”
”Do you really take our friends.h.i.+p as seriously as that?”
”Don't _you_?”