placed
the glass before him, received the silver dime in payment, and for the
third time looked into his eyes. Her vocabulary was limited, and she
knew little of the worth of words; but the strong masculinity of his
boy's face told her that the term was inappropriate.

"He must be handsome, then," was her next thought, as she again dropped
her eyes before his. But all good-looking men were called handsome, and
that term, too, displeased her. But whatever it was, he was good to see,
and she was irritably aware of a desire to look at him again and again.

As for Joe, he had never seen anything like this girl across the counter.
While he was wiser in natural philosophy than she, and could have given
immediately the reason for woman's existence on the earth, nevertheless
woman had no part in his cosmos. His imagination was as untouched by
woman as the girl's was by man. But his imagination was touched now, and
the woman was Genevieve. He had never dreamed a girl could be so
beautiful, and he could not keep his eyes from her face. Yet every time
he looked at her, and her eyes met his, he felt painful embarrassment,
and would have looked away had not her eyes dropped so quickly.

But when, at last, she slowly lifted her eyes and held their gaze
steadily, it was his own eyes that dropped, his own cheek that mantled
red. She was much less embarrassed than he, while she betrayed her
embarrassment not at all. She was aware of a flutter within, such as she
had never known before, but in no way did it disturb her outward
serenity. Joe, on the contrary, was obviously awkward and delightfully
miserable.

Neither knew love, and all that either was aware was an overwhelming
desire to look at the other. Both had been troubled and roused, and they
were drawing together with the sharpness and imperativeness of uniting
elements. He toyed with his spoon, and flushed his embarrassment over
his soda, but lingered on; and she spoke softly, dropped her eyes, and
wove her witchery about him.

But he could not linger forever over a glass of ice-cream soda, while he
did not dare ask for a second glass. So he left her to remain in the
shop in a waking trance, and went away himself down the street like a
somnambulist. Genevieve dreamed through the afternoon and knew that she
was in love. Not so with Joe. He knew only that he wanted to look at
her again, to see her face. His thoughts did not get beyond this, and
besides, it was