Then he had laughed and joked as if nothing unusual had happened--
only was he watching her out of the corner of his eye when he
thought she wasn't looking? That was the real question. The idea of
Raymond trying to make her jealous! How simple-minded boys are!
But, after all, what a dear, true friend he had proved himself in
the past--before she offended him. And how much more is friendship
than mere pleasures like travel--like going to Colorado.
But was he jealous? If he was--Missy felt an inexplicable kind of
bubbling in her heart at that idea. But if he wasn't--well, of
course it was natural she should wonder whether Raymond looked on
friendship as a light, come-and-go thing, and on locks of hair as
meaning nothing at all. For he had never been intimate with Kitty
Allen; and he had said he didn't like curly hair. Yet, probably, he
had one of Kitty Allen's ringlets. . . Missy felt a new, hideous
weight pulling down her heart.
Of course she had given that straight wisp to Don Jones--but what
else could she do to keep him from telling? Oh, life is a muddle!
And here, in less than a week, Aunt Isabel would come by and whisk
her off to the ends of the earth; and she might have to go without
really knowing what Raymond meant.
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