There was no use beating about
the bush. It was perfectly true. She was growing fonder of him, and more
dependent on him, every day. And every other man she had ever known had
been grateful for her least favor, while he--Her hurt pride seemed to
stifle her. She was very close to tears. She was jerked back to composure
by the happy voice of Thomas.
"My, but that was a thriller! Come on over to the drug-store, Sylvia, and
have an ice-cream cone."
"I'm not hungry," said Sylvia, rising, "and it must be getting awfully
late. I'd rather go straight home."
Thomas, though disappointed, saw no choice. But once off the brilliantly
lighted "Main Street," and lumbering down the road towards Hamstead, he
decided not to put off the great moment, for which he had been waiting,
any longer. Wondering why his stomach seemed to be caving in so, he
tactfully began.
"Did you know I was going to be twenty-one next month, Sylvia?" he asked.
"No," said Sylvia absently; "that is, I had forgotten. You seem more like
eighteen to me.
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