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 scarcely a thought, being more a dim and inarticulate desire.

The urge of this desire he could not escape.  Day after day it worried him, and the candy shop and the girl behind the counter continually obtruded themselves.  He fought off the desire.  He was afraid and ashamed to go back to the candy shop.  He solaced his fear with, “I ain’t a ladies’ man.”  Not once, nor twice, but scores of times, he muttered the thought to himself, but it did no good.  And by the middle of the week, in the evening, after work, he came into the shop.  He tried to come in carelessly and casually, but his whole carriage advertised the strong effort of will that compelled his legs to carry his reluctant body thither.  Also, he was shy, and awkwarder than ever.  Genevieve, on the contrary, was serener than ever, though fluttering most alarmingly within.  He was incapable of speech, mumbled his order, looked anxiously at the clock, despatched his ice-cream soda in tremendous haste, and was gone.

She was ready to weep with vexation.  Such meagre reward for four days’ waiting, and assuming all the time that she loved!  He was a nice boy and all that, she knew, but he needn’t have been in so disgraceful a hurry.  But Joe had not reached the corner before he wanted to be back with her again.  He just wanted to look at her.  He had no thought that it was love.  Love?  That was when young fellows and girls walked out together.  As for him—­And then his desire took sharper shape, and he discovered that that was the very thing he wanted her to do.  He wanted to see her, to look at her, and well could he do all this if she but walked out with him.  Then that was why the young fellows and girls walked out together, he mused, as the week-end drew near.  He had remotely considered this walking out to be a mere form or observance preliminary to matrimony.  Now he saw the deeper wisdom in it, wanted it himself, and concluded therefrom that he was in love.

Both were now of the same mind, and there could be but the one ending; and it was the mild nine days’ wonder of Genevieve’s neighborhood when she and Joe walked out together.