sort of repressed violence, on the mouth. She struggled from his hold,
as a matter of course, laughed a little laugh of triumph and excitement,
and shut herself into her own door.

Emeline was lying in bed, looking over some fashion and theatrical
magazines. Upon her daughter's entrance she gave a comfortable yawn.

"Did Mark find you, Julie? He was sitting on the stairs when I got home,
mad because you didn't go out with them."

"Yep, he found me!" Julia answered, still panting.

"It strikes me he's a little mushy on you, Julie," Emeline said, lazily,
turning a page. "And if you were a little older, or he had more of a
job, I'd give him a piece of my mind. You ain't going to marry _his_ sort,
I should hope. But, Lord, you're both only kids!"

"I guess I can mind my own business, Mama," Julia said.

"Well, I guess you can," Emeline conceded amiably. "Look, Ju, at the
size of these sleeves--ain't that something fierce? Get the light out as
soon as you can, lovey," she added, flinging away her magazine, and
rolling herself tight in the covers, with bright eyes fixed on the girl.

Ten minutes later Emeline was asleep. But Julia lay long awake,
springtime in her blood, her eyes smiling mysteriously into the dark.