“Yes, it is. Boys can do things that girls can’t. A flirtation means very little to a boy; it means a good deal to a girl--at least it ought to. If it doesn’t, it means that she’s had too much of it.”
“Come on, come on; don’t let’s go all over that again. We shall never agree. Let me go my way and you can go yours. We are too old friends to quarrel about a thing like this.”
Most boys would have been annoyed by Ralph’s attempt at interference, but it took a great deal to ruffle Roland’s lazy, equable good nature. He did not believe in rows. He liked to keep things running smoothly. He could never understand the people who were always wanting to stir up trouble. He did not really care enough either way. His tolerance might have been called indifference, but it possessed, at any rate, a genuine charm. The other fellow always felt what a thundering good chap Roland was--so good-tempered, such a gentleman, never harboring a grievance. People knew where they were with him; when he said a thing was over it was over.
“All right,” said Ralph grudgingly. “I don’t know that it’s quite the game----”
“Don’t worry. We’re a long way from anything serious. A good deal’s got to happen before we’re come to the age when we can’t do what we like.”
April sat for a long while before the looking-glass wondering whether to tie a blue or a white ribbon in her hair. She tried one and then the other and paused irresolute. It was the evening of the Saundersons’ dance, to which for weeks she had been looking forward, and she was desperately anxious to look pretty. It would be a big affair: ices and claret cup and a band, and Roland would be there. They had seen a lot of each other during the holidays--nearly every day. Often they had felt awkward in each other’s company; there had been embarrassing silences, when their eyes would meet suddenly and quickly turn away; and then there would come an unexpected interlude of calm, harmonious friendship, when they would talk openly and naturally to each other and would sit afterwards for a long while silent, softened and tranquilized by the presence of some unknown influence--moments of rare gentleness and sympathy. April could not help feeling that they were on the edge of something definite, some incident of avowal. She did not know what, but she felt that something was about to happen. She was flustered and expectant and eager to look pretty for Roland on this great evening.