Mary smiled wanly. I must seem like a fool, Byron.
Can I come around tonight?
Oh, what will Ollie think?
Do you care what Ollie thinks?
No—oo. Yes, come around tonight, Byron.
What time?
Oh, about eight-thirty.
I'll be there.
Mary felt happy and warm again.
Are you looking for work yet, Byron? she inquired.
He laughed uneasily. Why, I just got up. How could I look for a job this morning? Besides I want to take a little time to look around. I don't want to take the first thing that offers.
Later, after he had left her at the door of the library, she was frightened. Her inexperience, her prior lack of desire for experience, had tricked her. She had been, she assured herself, too forthright. She had permitted him to know at once that she loved him. In this respect, at any rate, she had been perhaps a daughter of her race, but vague doubts clouded her mind, forcing her to be uncertain whether she had been wise to yield so easily to this warm emotion. Could she never be simple? Apparently not. This troublesome brain of hers, standing a little apart and judging with calm dispassionate logic all that she did, informed her that she had allowed him to know too soon that she loved
