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 made a place beside her and began to prattle to him—and because he knew she did not know him, did not realize to whom she was talking, and because she possessed social graces of whose very existence he was unaware, he found himself inexplicably at his ease.

“I’ve met almost everybody here before,” she said. “I’ve been in Rainbow two weeks, you know. How is it I have never seen you? Have you been away?”

“No, I haven’t been away.”

“I presume you are too busy and important to bother with calls and parties and such things. Somehow you look more important than these other boys. Why is it?” She looked at him through her lashes and thought what a fine, interesting boy he was.

“I never go places,” he said slowly. “This is the first party I was ever at.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“No.” He shook his head and did not look at her.

“But—” she hesitated, intrigued, yet feeling she was treading on forbidden ground. Abruptly she changed the subject to the safer one of books, that refuge of the young, and to happenings in the world—to cosmic issues and to the infinite—and Angus found himself talking, for here were matters he was equipped to discuss.