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 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