“You’d better keep away from that,” said Gordon with much meaning and manly wisdom in his voice. “I think I’d like it maybe.” “Yes, you would.” He changed the subject impatiently. “Fliss, will you wear my frat pin?” Fliss patted her knee with the ostrich fan, and regarded the pin. It was set with pearls in the most extravagant manner that a fraternity pin could be. But she hesitated. “You know what that always means to everybody--all the girls laugh and talk----” “That’s what I’d like it to mean--that we’re engaged.” “Oh, I don’t want to be engaged.” “I suppose it would have to be awfully indefinite. But it doesn’t have to mean that we’re engaged, just to wear my pin. Lots of girls wear them when they don’t mean a single thing. Please.” She took the pin from him yieldingly, with a graceful little smile of pleasure and gratitude playing about her mouth. The boy was watching her closely and his face flushed suddenly at her smile. “And because it’s our last night,” he whispered awkwardly, “you’ll let me kiss you----” But he did not wait for permission. Most of the boys did not with Fliss. Fliss might not give you the kiss you wanted when you wanted it, but she could be kissed and they knew it. Usually they were silly enough, little giggling kisses, but to-night there was a new quality in Gordon. Fliss felt it and pulled herself away, a little abashed. But most of all Gordon seemed to feel it himself, for he released her and stood up suddenly, flushed and silent. “I think this is what it is to be in love--really,” he said, soberly. But she had recovered her gay little self. “If you act like that another time, I’ll stop speaking to you, Gordon,” she said, “and I’m going down to dance.” They went down into the crowded hall, but the boy did not dance again. Going home later, he crowded into the back of a big touring car with Fliss and three other couples of boys and girls, all excited and laughing, sitting on each other’s laps and indulging in foolish little caresses and rebuffs. He did not touch Fliss. And Fliss, still later, sat on the edge of the bed in the room of a friend where she was spending the night. It was a rather luxurious room and the two girls made a lovely picture against its background. They discussed the dance and the boys. “Oh, they are just boys,” said Fliss, somewhat slightingly. “You’ll see a different type in the men who come to college dances, I suppose. Real men.” “I wish you were coming to college, Fliss.” “Too much work.” “But if you stay on here you’ll probably just marry----” Fliss grew suddenly angry. “That’s the second time I’ve been told that to-night and it is perfectly absurd. Why should I marry just because I don’t go to college?” Her friend ruminated a little. She was a pretty girl herself and a thoughtful one. “I thought you might like to,” she answered simply. “And when there’s nothing much else to do, the girls all seem to----”