"Nelly--I'm so sorry--I didn't really have the chance to tell
you in there how sorry I was for the way I spoke to you.
Gee! it was fierce of me--but I felt--I couldn't dance, and--oh--"
No answer.
"And you did mind it, didn't you?"
"Why, I didn't think you were so very nice about it--when I'd
tried so hard to have you have a good time--"
"Oh, Nelly, I'm so sorry--"
There was tragedy in his voice. His shoulders, which he always
tried to keep as straight as though they were in a vise when he
walked with her, were drooping.
She touched his glove. "Oh don't, Billy; it's all right now.
I understand. Let's forget--"
"Oh, you're too good to me!"
Silence.
As they crossed Twenty-third on Fifth Avenue she took his arm.
He squeezed her hand. Suddenly the world was all young and
beautiful and wonderful. It was the first time in his life that
he had ever walked thus, with the arm of a girl for whom he
cared cuddled in his. He glanced down at her cheap white furs.
Snowflakes, tremulous on the fur, were turned into diamond dust
in the light from a street-lamp which showed as well a tiny
place where her collar had been torn and mended ever so
carefully.
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