“I’m not afraid of that.  I’m only afraid of what you might say!” He stalked to her; took her unresponsive hand.  “Carol!  You have been happy here tonight? (Yes.  I’m begging!)”

She squeezed his hand quickly, then snatched hers away.  She had but little of the curiosity of the flirt, and none of the intrigante’s joy in furtiveness.  If she was the naive girl, Guy Pollock was the clumsy boy.  He raced about the office; he rammed his fists into his pockets.  He stammered, “I—­I—­I——­Oh, the devil!  Why do I awaken from smooth dustiness to this jagged rawness?  I’ll make I’m going to trot down the hall and bring in the Dillons, and we’ll all have coffee or something.”

“The Dillons?”

“Yes.  Really quite a decent young pair—­Harvey Dillon and his wife.  He’s a dentist, just come to town.  They live in a room behind his office, same as I do here.  They don’t know much of anybody——­”

“I’ve heard of them.  And I’ve never thought to call.  I’m horribly ashamed.  Do bring them——­”

She stopped, for no very clear reason, but his expression said, her faltering admitted, that they wished they had never mentioned the Dillons.  With spurious enthusiasm he said, “Splendid!  I will.”  From the door he glanced at her, curled in the peeled leather chair.  He slipped out, came back with Dr. and Mrs. Dillon.

The four of them drank rather bad coffee which Pollock made on a kerosene burner.  They laughed, and spoke of Minneapolis, and were tremendously tactful; and Carol started for home, through the November wind.

CHAPTER XIV

She was marching home.

“No.  I couldn’t fall in love with him.  I like him, very much.  But he’s too much of a recluse.  Could I kiss him?  No!  No!  Guy Pollock at twenty-six I could have kissed him then, maybe, even if I were married to some one else, and probably I’d have been glib in persuading myself that ‘it wasn’t really wrong.’

“The amazing thing is that I’m not more amazed at myself.  I, the virtuous young matron.  Am I to be trusted?  If the Prince Charming came——­

“A Gopher Prairie housewife, married a year, and yearning for a ’Prince Charming’ like a bachfisch of sixteen!  They say that marriage is a magic change.  But I’m not changed.  But——­

“No!  I wouldn’t want to fall in love, even if the Prince did come.  I wouldn’t want to hurt Will.  I am fond of Will.  I am!  He doesn’t stir me, not any longer.  But I depend on him.  He is home and children.

“I wonder when we will begin to have children?  I do want them.

“I wonder whether I remembered to tell Bea to have hominy tomorrow, instead of oatmeal?  She will have gone to bed by now.  Perhaps I’ll be up early enough——­

“Ever so fond of Will.  I wouldn’t hurt him, even if I had to lose the mad love.  If the Prince came I’d look once at him, and run.  Darn fast!  Oh, Carol, you are not heroic nor fine.  You are the immutable vulgar young female.