“Hello? She’s like, your girlfriend, not mine. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. She dived at once behind the cover of the lamproom and affected serious trouble with her shoe-lace until he was out of the station, and then she followed slowly and with extreme discretion until the bifurcation of the Avenue from the field way insured her escape. She felt pride sashay into her thoughts. I spoke a thought aloud. Yon must be mine to-night. I wouldn't allow you to be honest even if you could be so,—which I doubt. "I was about to add," continued Gay, "that my opera shall have no music except the good old ballad tunes. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively.
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