around the lower hallway as Minnie opened the door and let him in. They stood under the sputtering gas jet, and shook hands, solemnly. Billy's expression of contentment made her want to laugh at him. His mouth was slightly open in a fixed grin, his head wagging foolishly. His huge, clumsy fingers trembled.
"Minnie," he said, embarrassed by her quizzical stare, "you just make me sick with happiness."
"Yeh?"
"What do you say," and his voice lowered to a husky whisper, "if we sit on the stairs and spoon a while?"
Minnie laughed pleasantly.
He sat on the third stair, and drew Minnie onto his lap, circling her body with his arms and drawing her head to his shoulder. She could hear his heart thumping. Sometimes when he whispered to her the words were inarticulate, and when he kissed her she noticed that his lips were hot against her cool ones. Poor Billy! He wasn't much, she thought, as she listened to his plans for the future, but he was a decent boy. She wished he were tall and handsome and wore a little mustache like the men she admired in the movies.
Billy's desire for kissing grew as the hours passed all too swiftly. He moved down to the second step, resting his head against her waist. She lay in his arms enjoying his kisses, often putting her head far back so that his lips brushed her neck. Sometimes his almost furious onslaught confused her, but it never frightened her. Minnie had spooned with all her beaux. It seemed a natural thing to do, and she was unashamed of enjoying it. Sometimes her curiosity was aroused when she became conscious of the emotional perturbation of the boys who held her so fiercely in their arms, but within herself there were seldom any tumultuous longings. At times she felt a vague restlessness, an inner glow, but it generally
