"There!" she said, when he met her eyes but soon faltered.
He seized her and cried: "Well, what do we care?"
When he released her, she asked him, seriously: "David, why won't your father—why don't people like me—what would they want me to do?"
"People are crazy over you!" said David. "Nearly everybody."
"Lots of people hate me, David. They always have."
"You've always been pretty."
Fidelia shook her head. "That's not it."
"Why isn't it?"
She gazed at him honestly and said quietly: "Alice has always been pretty; and everybody's loved her. She hasn't a hater in the world, David."
Alice! The thought of her stabbed David; he thought of her as he had seen her last when she stepped forward on the platform at Commencement to receive her diploma and all the audience applauded and applauded. Fidelia was so sure that this was in his mind that she said: "If that had been me, how many would have cared?"
David protested: "What I did put people at the college against you."
Fidelia shook her head; she raised her hands to her hair and thrust her fingers through it. Watching her, David thrilled with realization that he possessed her.
"Come here, Fidel!" he commanded. "Fidel!" he repeated, proprietorily creating his own name for her. "Now," he said, more satisfied when she was closer, "let's you and me plan where we're going to live."
"Where do you want to?" asked Fidelia.
