side to side; his lips were thrust out, his eyes shone. He was
standing with his feet well apart, his hands deep in his pockets;
he laughed, reddening to his forehead, but he was not
embarrassed. For once David's old look of silent, friendly
admiration did not answer him; instead there was half-bewildered
dismay. David wanted to protest that it wasn't--well, it wasn't
_fair_. He did not say it; and in not saying it he ceased to
be a boy.

"I suppose it was when you and she went off after dinner? You
needn't have been so darned quiet about it! What's the good of
being so--mum about everything? Why didn't you come back and
tell? You're not ashamed of it, are you?"

"A man doesn't tell a thing like that," Blair said scornfully.

"Well!" David snorted, "I suppose some time you'll be married?"

Blair nodded again. "Right off."

"Huh!" said David; "your mother won't let you. You are only
sixteen. Don't be an ass."

"I'll be seventeen next May."

"Seventeen! What's seventeen? I'm pretty near eighteen, and I
haven't thought of being married;--at least to anybody in
particular."

"You couldn't," Blair said coldly; "you haven't got the cash."