"How d'y' mean?" Amory gave immediate attention, on his own ground at
last.

"Oh--always talking about crazy things. Why don't you come ski-ing with
Marylyn and I to-morrow?"

"I don't like girls in the daytime," he said shortly, and then, thinking
this a bit abrupt, he added: "But I like you." He cleared his throat.
"I like you first and second and third."

Myra's eyes became dreamy. What a story this would make to tell Marylyn!
Here on the couch with this _wonderful_-looking boy--the little fire--
the sense that they were alone in the great building--

Myra capitulated. The atmosphere was too appropriate.

"I like you the first twenty-five," she confessed, her voice trembling,
"and Froggy Parker twenty-sixth."

Froggy had fallen twenty-five places in one hour. As yet he had not even
noticed it.

But Amory, being on the spot, leaned over quickly and kissed Myra's
cheek. He had never kissed a girl before, and he tasted his lips
curiously, as if he had munched some new fruit. Then their lips brushed
like young wild flowers in the wind.

"We're awful," rejoiced Myra gently. She slipped her hand into his,
her head drooped against his shoulder. Sudden revulsion seized Amory,
disgust, loathing for the whole incident. He desired frantically to be