imply, merely by expression and attitude, that the supposed
companion has left her for only a few moments, that she herself
has sent him upon an errand; and, if possible, the minds of
observers must be directed toward a conclusion that this errand
of her devising is an amusing one; at all events, she is alone
temporarily and of choice, not deserted. She awaits a devoted
man who may return at any instant.

Other people desired to sit in Alice's nook, but discovered her
in occupancy. She had moved the vacant chair closer to her own,
and she sat with her arm extended so that her hand, holding her
lace kerchief, rested upon the back of this second chair,
claiming it. Such a preemption, like that of a traveller's bag
in the rack, was unquestionable; and, for additional evidence,
sitting with her knees crossed, she kept one foot continuously
moving a little, in cadence with the other, which tapped the
floor. Moreover, she added a fine detail: her half-smile, with
the under lip caught, seemed to struggle against repression, as
if she found the service engaging her absent companion even more
amusing than she would let him see when he returned: there was
jovial intrigue of some sort afoot, evidently. Her eyes, beaming
with secret fun, were averted from intruders, but sometimes, when
couples approached, seeking possession of the nook, her thoughts
about the absentee appeared to threaten her with outright
laughter; and though one or two girls looked at her skeptically,
as they turned away, their escorts felt no such doubts, and
merely wondered what importantly funny affair Alice Adams was
engaged in. She had learned to do it perfectly.

She had learned it during the last two years; she was twenty when