"It's awful puzzling: I mean, they _know_ so much. It takes so long to become an adult. And you're always doing silly things that they don't do, and you don't know why. You don't _understand_. It's hard, to understand. And sometimes you're almost afraid you'll _never_ be able to grow up." * * * * * He was a boy again, now, and she felt her heart swell in sympathy as she watched him and listened to his words, and for a single moment, many things seemed possible. "It's awful hard," he said. "And if a man has to do it alone...." The calm was gone. _No, No!_ she shrieked mentally, _No, please don't ask me!_ "It makes it so much harder," Clyde continued. "Have you ever ... I mean ... uh, Margy, it's kinda nice, I mean ... to make an early first marriage, don't you think?" She felt herself trembling, and her lips moved soundlessly. "What I want to say, it's so much nicer to have someone. I mean, it helps you grow up faster. Gives you responsibilities. _Teaches_ you, I mean." "I ... I...." "What I'm trying to get around to saying.... Look. Sometimes these first marriages just go right on lasting. I mean, if two people, they're alike, they just stay on married." She felt fire in her cheeks. "Margy, will you marry me?" Anticipation had not blunted the effect, and maturity shone in his eyes. Her face was white; blood fled from her lips. "Clyde...." "We're a lot alike, Margy," he said intently. "We could make it last. We've got a lot in common. For us it wouldn't be just a first marriage. It would be _the_ marriage, the one to last always. And we both need to get married. To help us grow up." "I ... I...." "Listen, Margy. I always thought ... I mean, well, I've always thought you like me. A lot, I mean. I've always thought that--well--that you were in love with me, sort of." It felt like her chest was being crushed by emotions; and she could see him spinning farther away from her. And she could not let him go. She could not lose him like this, just let him walk away. It wasn't fair. "I ... I guess I am." "Then we'll go down tomorrow for licenses? We'll have our check-ups, and...." "No," she moaned, "no, no, no." He drew her against him. She tried to turn her lips away, but she did not want to, and then it was too late, and there was nothing she could do. She forced him back. "Wait," she said. "I love you," she said. "Listen, you've got to do this. Listen. You've got to meet me tonight. At the library. At ... at ... nine o'clock." She took a deep breath. "You've got to do that." "What's...." She turned. "Margy!" Without daring to look back, she said, "Don't come any farther. Wait until tonight." Inside, she was crying and hurt and desperate and ashamed. Most of all, ashamed. Her nails dug into her palms until she felt the sharp pain. _What can I do?_ she thought. _I won't go. I'll ... I'll ... I won't go. I'll leave...._ There was a thin trickle of warmness across the inside of her hand.