and going over everything as if she were a woman.
She wasn't a woman yet, and could only be a kid once. It was too bad of
Alice to try and force her to take things seriously so soon.
Seriousness was for older people, and even then something to avoid if
possible. And as for Gilbert--well, she didn't for one instant deny the
fact that it was rather exciting and exhilarating for him to be in love
with her, although she was awfully sorry for Alice. She had done
nothing to encourage him, and it was really a matter of absolute
indifference to her whether he loved her or not, so long as he was at
hand to take her about. And she didn't intend to encourage him, either.
Love meant ties and responsibility--Alice proved that clearly enough.
There was plenty of time for love. Let her flit first. Let her remain
young as long as she could, careless and care-free. The fact that she
was married was just an accident, an item in her adventure. It didn't
make her less young to be married, and she didn't see why it should.
Martin understood, and that was why it was so far-fetched of Alice to
suggest that her attitude could turn Martin's armor into broadcloth,
and hint at his having ceased to be a knight because he had been seen
with a girl--never mind whether her face was white and her lips red,
and her hair too golden.

"I'm a kid, I tell you," she said aloud, throwing out her justification
to the whole world. "I am and I will be, I will be. I'll play the fool
and revel in it as long as I can--so there. Who cares?" And she laughed
once more, and ran her hand over her hair as though waving all these
thoughts away, and shut the windows and turned out the lights and went
upstairs to her bedroom. "I'm a selfish, self-willed little devil,
crazy about myself, thinking of nothing but having a good time," she
added inwardly. "I know it, all of you, as well as you do, but give me
time. Give me my head for a bit. When I must begin to pay, I'll pay
with all I've got."

But presently, all ready for bed, she put on a dressing gown and left
her room and padded along the passage in heelless slippers to Martin's
room. He might have been asleep all this time. How silly not to have
thought of that! She would wake him for one of their talks. It seemed
an age since they had sat on the hill together among the young buds,
and she had conjured up the high-reaching buildings of New York against
the blue sky, like a mirage.

She had begun to think again. Alice