. She was her own mistress. Her mother had gone home
during the play with Mrs. Toomey, who complained of a headache. So,
grinning like conspirators, they stayed on the south side of the street
until it joined Market, and then went by the fountain and the big
newspaper buildings, and slipped into the confectioner's. Julia sent an
approving side glance at herself in the mirror, as she drew a satisfied
breath of the essence-laden air. She loved lights, perfumes, voices--and
all were here.
An indifferent young woman wiped their table with a damp rag, as she
took their order, both, with the daring of their years, deciding upon
the murderous combination of banana ice-cream and soda with chopped nuts
and fruit. Julia had no sooner settled back contentedly to wait for it,
than her eye encountered the beaming faces of her late companions, who,
finding Haas's crowded, had naturally drifted on to Maskey's.
Much giggling and blushing and teasing ensued. Julia was radiant as a
rose; every time she caught sight of her own pretty reflection in the
surrounding mirrors, a fresh thrill of self-confidence warmed her. She
and Mark followed the banana confection with a dish apiece of raspberry
ice-cream, and afterward walked home--it was not far--to the house in
which they both lived.
"And so we don't quarrel any more?" Mark asked, in the dim hallway
outside her door.
"Not if you won't play mean tricks on me!" Julia pouted, raising her
face so that the dim light of the gas jet that burned year in and year
out, in the blistered red-glass shade, fell upon the soft curves of her
face.
It was a deliberate piece of coquetry, and Julia, although neither he
nor any other man had ever done it before, was not at all surprised to
have Mark suddenly close his strong arms about her, and kiss her, with a
sort of repressed violence, on the mouth. She struggled from his hold,
as a matter of course, laughed a little laugh of triumph and excitement,
and shut herself into her own door.
Emeline was lying in bed, looking over some fashion and theatrical
magazines. Upon her daughter's entrance she gave a comfortable yawn.
"Did Mark find you, Julie? He was sitting on the stairs when I got home,
mad because you didn't go out with them."
"Yep, he found me!" Julia answered, still panting.
"It strikes me he's a little mushy on you, Julie," Emeline said, lazily,
turning a page. "And if you were a little older, or he had more of a
job, I'd give him
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