glowing gave themselves up to a great hearty laugh at Eddie Collins.
"I knew I'd get you to talk to me," she said.
"Oh, that was it?"
"Sure. You didn't think I wanted the pleasure of your company, did you?"
"Gee, you're fresh, aren't you?"
"Just fresh enough," she responded.
Her teeth flashed whitely behind the generously proportioned scarlet lips. Her eyes frankly revealed the idea that lay so close to them. She wanted to be kissed. Not at that moment, of course, but Eddie knew the routine. At first they would toss mildly insulting wisecracks back and forth; then gradually the artless phrasing of their speeches would take on a slightly yellowish tinge. Significant smiles and glances would accompany the degeneration of their chatter. It would become quite the thing to place smutty interpretations on every word passed between them. Then she would move with him into a darkened corner and permit him to kiss her, to paw her unrestrainedly. The limit? No, she would not go the limit. She would lie against his shoulder, moist-lipped, panting, but ever alert lest the purely physical barrier that guaranteed her self-respect be taken from her.
Oh, yes, Eddie knew, but he was not conscious of having so gloomily detailed how far one could presume on the somewhat vulgar virginity of the lower middle-class girl.
"Who's with you?" he asked.
She motioned carelessly toward her companion. "Edna, my brother's lady friend," she replied.
The older girl, hearing her name, turned curious eyes upon the two. Flushed with self-consciousness at the importance of her social obligation, the girl with the ukulele made the one-sided introduction. "This is Mrs. Edna Driggs."
