For that matter, it was not a custom
of hers to notice young men. There was something about them she did not
understand. The way they looked at her made her uncomfortable, she knew
not why; while there was an uncouthness and roughness about them that did
not please her. As yet, her imagination had been untouched by man. The
young fellows she had seen had held no lure for her, had been without
meaning to her. In short, had she been asked to give one reason for the
existence of men on the earth, she would have been nonplussed for a
reply.
As she emptied the measure of ice-cream into the glass, her casual glance
rested on Joe's face, and she experienced on the instant a pleasant
feeling of satisfaction. The next instant his eyes were upon her face,
her eyes had dropped, and she was turning away toward the soda fountain.
But at the fountain, filling the glass, she was impelled to look at him
again--but for no more than an instant, for this time she found his eyes
already upon her, waiting to meet hers, while on his face was a frankness
of interest that caused her quickly to look away.
That such pleasingness would reside for her in any man astonished her.
"What a pretty boy," she thought to herself, innocently and instinctively
trying to ward off the power to hold and draw her that lay behind the
mere prettiness. "Besides, he isn't pretty," she thought, as she placed
the glass before him, received the silver dime in payment, and for the
third time looked into his eyes.
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