herself that, if she HAD lied a little bit, it was really her
parents' fault; if they had only let her go to church, she wouldn't
have been driven to sneaking out this way. But her trip, however
fundamentally virtuous--and with whatever subtly interwoven elements
of pleasure at its end--was certainly not an agreeable one. At the
moment Missy resolved never, never to sneak off alone at night
again.

In the brightly lighted library her fears faded away; she warmed to
anticipation again. And she found some very enjoyable stories in the
new magazines--she seemed, strangely, to have forgotten about any
"history references." But, as the hands on the big clock above the
librarian's desk moved toward half-past eight, apprehensions began
to rise again. What if Arthur should fail to come? Could she ever
live through that long, terrible trip home, all alone?

Then, just as fear was beginning to turn to panic, Arthur sauntered
in, nonchalantly took a chair at another table, picked up a magazine
and professed to glance through it. And then, while Missy
palpitated, he looked over at her, smiled, and made an interrogative
movement with his eyebrows. More palpitant by the second, she
replaced her magazines and got into her wraps. As she moved toward
the door, whither Arthur was also sauntering, she felt that every
eye in the Library must be observing. Hard to tell whether she was
more proud or embarrassed at the public empressement of her "date."

Arthur, quite at ease, took her arm to help her down the slippery
steps.

Arthur wore his air of assurance gracefully because he was so used