Alice could hear them from time to time; thin sopranos persistent
in laughter that fell dismally upon her ears. She had set no
lines or nets herself, and what she had of "expectations," as
Walter called them, were vanished. For Alice was experienced;
and one of the conclusions she drew from her experience was that
when a man says, "I'd take you for anything you wanted me to," he
may mean it or, he may not; but, if he does, he will not postpone
the first opportunity to say something more. Little affairs,
once begun, must be warmed quickly; for if they cool they are
dead.

But Alice was not thinking of Arthur Russell. When she tossed
away the carnations she likewise tossed away her thoughts of
that young man. She had been like a boy who sees upon the
street, some distance before him, a bit of something round and
glittering, a possible dime. He hopes it is a dime, and, until
he comes near enough to make sure, he plays that it is a dime.
In his mind he has an adventure with it: he buys something
delightful. If he picks it up, discovering only some tin-foil
which has happened upon a round shape, he feels a sinking. A
dulness falls upon him.

So Alice was dull with the loss of an adventure; and when the
laughter of other girls reached her, intermittently, she had not
sprightliness enough left in her to be envious of their gaiety.
Besides, these neighbours were ineligible even for her envy,
being of another caste; they could never know a dance at the
Palmers', except remotely, through a newspaper. Their laughter
was for the encouragement of snappy young men of the stores and