Page:Middle Aged Love Stories (IA middleagedlove00bacorich).djvu/115

 was why they had comprehended so well and answered so readily! And yet she was too glad to be annoyed at the slip. There were other things: her life was not a German class!

As the girls crowded out, one stopped by the desk. She laid her hand with the pearl band on the third finger on the teacher’s arm. “You look tired,” she said. “I hope you’re not ill?”

“Ill?” said the woman at the desk. “I never felt better. I’ve been neglecting my classes, I fear, in the study of your green gown. It is so very pretty.”

The girl smiled and colored a little.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said. “I like it, too.” Then, with a sudden feeling of friendship, an odd sense of intimacy, a quick impulse of common femininity, she added:

“I’ve had some good times in this dress. Wearing it up here makes me remember them very strangely. It’s queer, what a difference it makes—” She