"Why, naturally," he answered. "That's friendship."
"It sounds much nicer than anything I ever heard about in my life,"
said Joy enthusiastically. "But--are you sure I'm not the one that's
going to be more of a trial than a fiance? I--I don't want to be a
bother, you know."
"If you are, I'll tell you," he promised.
"All right," said Joy contentedly, "and I promise not to have my
feelings hurt a bit."
She felt quite unafraid of him by now, as he had intended, for they
had been talking together as if they were exactly the same age--or,
rather, Joy thought, as if nobody had any age at all.
"Do you know," she told him confidentially, "I _did_ want a
lover, back there at home. A real one, I mean. I saw a girl with
one, and you could tell there wasn't anything on earth so nice as
being lovers. But this is lots better--all the nice part of it and
none of the stupid part--for I suppose they were going to be
married."
John looked at her curiously.
"Joy, did you never have a friend of your own age, or any companions
but those old people of yours?"
She shook her head, smiling.
"Never any."
"That accounts for you, I suppose," said he with a sigh, which
puzzled Joy very much. She had accepted as gospel John's order not
to be afraid of him; and she was talking to him as if he were
confidant, father and sister, all in one. That it might be treatment
a very attractive man wasn't used to never dawned on her, because
she had nothing to check up by.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93