Cecily shook her head so violently that tendrils of hair bounced like little springs.
"Then I'm going to wait here till you do," Jock told her firmly.
He waited in silence, and after an interval Cecily said, "Turn out the light."
When the room was in darkness again Jock could hear her stirring, sitting up—blowing her nose, even. Her voice came, still thick, but much more nearly normal. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
"I came over on an errand, and heard you'
"How did you know it was I?"
"I missed you from the dance," Jock lied. "I was sure you couldn't be in the dressing room all that time. Cecily, tell me why"
"You know why."
"No, I"
"Oh, stop!" she wailed. "Don't lie to me—not now. Of course you know why I left, and why I'm crying, and just exactly what's wrong—of course you do. That's why you've been so wonderful to me ever since I came—because you were sorry for me. Oh, I know! I understood that, even though you acted just as if I was—was—as if you really liked me"
"I do like you, Cecily."
"Do you really?"
"I really do."
"Enough to be absolutely frank with me?"
"Y-yes."
"Then tell me what to do!" cried Cecily passionately through the dark. "Tell me how to be like the rest of these girls—how to be popular! That's what I need—somebody who likes me well enough to be willing to tell me that!"
An honest appeal, straight from the heart. Jock
