"Of course I do--I know he's very handsome, and awfully good-natured,
and he's given me the only good time I've had at the University. You
just don't know how ghastly last year was to me! I'm awfully grateful
to Jerry, and that's all there is to it!"
Before this second disclaimer, her parents were silent again, Sylvia
looking down at her lap, picking at her fingers. Her expression was
that of a naughty child--that is, with a considerable admixture of
unhappiness in her wilfulness.
By this time Professor Marshall's expression was clearly one of
downright anger, controlled by violent effort. Mrs. Marshall was the
first one to speak. She went over to Sylvia and laid her hand on her
shoulder. "Well, Sylvia dear, I'm sorry about--" She stopped and
began again. "You know, dear, that we always believed in letting our
children, as far as possible, make their own decisions, and we won't
go back on that now. But I want you to understand that that puts a
bigger responsibility on you than on most girls to make the _right_
decisions. We trust you--your good sense and right feeling--to keep
you from being carried away by unworthy motives into a false position.
And, what's just as important, we trust to your being clear-headed
enough to see what your motives really are."
"I don't see," began Sylvia, half crying, "why something horrid should
come up just because I want a good time--other girls don't have to be
all the time so solemn, and thinking about things!"
"There'd be more happy women if they did," remarked Mrs.
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