nd Joe Jordan. He took the most strategic
precautions lest some one think that he wanted to look at Gertie; made
such ponderous efforts to prove he was care-free that every one knew
something was the matter.

Ben Rusk was taking no part in the gaiety of Howard and Joe. The
serious man of letters was not easily led into paths of frivolity.
Carl swore to himself: "Ben 's the only guy I know that's got any
delicate feelings. He appreciates how Gertie feels when she's sick,
poor girl. He don't make a goat of himself, like Joe.... Or maybe he's
got a stomach-ache."

"Post-office!" cried Howard Griffin to the room at large. "Come on!
We're all of us going to be kids again, and play post-office. Who's
the first girl wants to be kissed?"

"The idea!" giggled Adelaide Benner.

"Me for Adelaide!" bawled Joe Jordan.

"Oh, Jo-oe, bet I kiss Gertie!" from Irving Lamb.

"The idea!"

"Just as if we were children----"

"He must think we're kids again----"

"Shamey! Winnie wants to be kissed, and Carl won't----"

"I don't, either, so there----"

"I think it's awful."

"Bet I kiss Gertie----"

Carl was furious at all of them as they strained their shoulders
forward from their chairs and laughed. He asked himself, "Haven't
these galoots got any sense?"

To speak so lightly of kissing Gertie! He stared at the smooth
rounding of her left cheek below the cheek-bone till it took a
separate identity, and its white softness filled the room.

Ten minutes afterward, playing "post-office," he was facing Gertie in
the semi-darkness of the sitting-room, authorized by the game to kiss
her; shut in with his divinity.

She took his hand. Her voice was crooning, "Are you going to kiss me
terribly hard?"

He tried to be gracefully mocking: "Oh yes! Sure! I'm going to eat you
alive."

She was waiting.

He wished that she would not hold his hand. Within he groaned, "Gee
whiz! I feel foolish!" He croaked: "Do you feel better, now? You'll
catch more cold in here, won't you? There's kind of a draught. Lemme
look at this window."

Crossing to the obviously tight window, he ran his finger along the
edge of the sash with infinite care. He trembled. In a second, _now_,
he had to turn and make light of the lips which he would fain have
approached with ceremony pompous and lingering.

Gertie flopped into a chair, laughing: "I believe you're afraid to
kiss me! 'Fraid cat! You'll never be a squire of dames, like those
actors are! All ri