"Who's Tim?"
"The--a chauffeur."
Nick leaned closer. "Say, do you ever go to the dances at Englewood
Masonic Hall?"
"I never have."
"'Jah like to go some time?"
"I'd love it." She grinned up at him, her teeth flashing white in her
brown face.
"It's swell here," he said, dreamily. "Like the woods?"
"Yes."
"Winter, when it's cold and dirty, I think about how it's here summers.
It's like you could take it out of your head and look at it whenever you
wanted to."
"Endymion."
"Huh?"
"A man said practically the same thing the other day. Name of Keats."
"Yeh?"
"He said: 'A thing of beauty is a joy forever.'"
"That's one way putting it," he agreed, graciously.
Unsmilingly she reached over with one slim forefinger, as if compelled,
and touched the blond hairs on Nick's wrist. Just touched them. Nick
remained motionless. The girl shivered a little, deliciously. She
glanced at him shyly. Her lips were provocative. Thoughtlessly, blindly,
Nick suddenly flung an arm about her, kissed her. He kissed her as he
had never kissed Miss Bauers--as he had never kissed Miss Ahearn, Miss
Olson, or just Gertie. The girl did not scream, or push him away, or
slap him, or protest, or giggle as would have the above-mentioned young
ladies. She sat breathing rather fast, a tinge of scarlet showing
beneath the tan.
"Well, Pan," she said, low-voiced, "you're running true to form,
anyway." She eyed him appraisingly. "Your appeal is in your virility, I
suppose. Yes."
"My what?"