paring to withdraw. "There's an inter-fraternity tea dance at the Union at four o'clock, and you have to meet everybody and lap up a couple of cocktails apiece between now and then."
"We'll be down in ten minutes," promised Norma Knight.
"I'll be ready in five," added Molly, not to be outdone.
Jock and Bones descended the stairs again and encountered Dopey Lane and his girl just entering. Dopey presented them mournfully.
"Jock Hamill, Cecily Graves. And Bones Allen."
Jock's first thought was that she ought to put cold cream, or whatever it was they usually put, on her hands, The one that he took in greeting was rough and chapped. But it gave a firm pressure, and he liked that. Shaking hands with some girls was like gripping a listless bit of cotton batting.
"Hello, Miss Graves."
"How-do-you-do?"
Tinkling silver voice. But he saw that aside from the voice and the handclasp and a certain fundamental prettiness, Cecily Graves was all wrong. Her clothes were wrong, and the way she wore them was wrong, and even the silence that followed her "How-do-you-do" was wrong. Girls ought to say something more, immediately. When they did not they gave you an impression of timidity and stupidity—of either not knowing anything more to say, or of being too embarrassed to say it, or both. Jock decided that it was embarrassment in Cecily. Whatever else you might think of her, she didn't look stupid. Too bright a glint in the brown eyes for that.
"See you later," Dopey nodded, and conducted her past them toward the stairway.
