Then came the time
to go home. Missy could not hold back a certain sense of triumph as,
after thanking Raymond for a glorious time, she started off, under
his inquisitive eye, arm in arm with Jim.
That unwonted arm-in-arm business confused Missy a good deal. She
had an idea it was the proper thing when one is being escorted home,
and had put her arm in his as a matter of course, but before they
had reached the gate she was acutely conscious of the touch of her
arm on his. To make matters worse, a curious wave of embarrassment
was creeping over her; she couldn't think of anything to say, and
they had walked nearly a block down moon-flooded Silver Street, with
no sound but Jim's creaking shoes, before she got out: "How do you
like Cherry vale, Mr. Henley?"
"Looks good to me," he responded.
Then silence again, save for Jim's shoes. Missy racked her brains.
What do you say to boys who don't know the same people and affairs
you do? Back there at the party things had gone easily, but they
were playing cards or dancing or eating; there had been no need for
tete-a-tete conversation.
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