they could. They could put her in a position more humiliating than Dorothy Hess's; they could make her one who was not merely ignored, but who was outcast.
She gazed out the window and saw several men on the snowy walks going to classes, undoubtedly; she forgot her apprehensions and finished breakfast cheerfully.
Many men were on the walks when she left Mrs. Fansler's door in company with Dorothy; and others were appearing from houses up and down the block, hailing one another and calling to girls through the fine, flickering snow which was in the air this morning.
The wind of yesterday and of the night had ceased and the day was calm and mild under light gray clouds which sifted down this pleasant snow and which now and then let sudden, gleaming shafts of the sun slip through.
Fidelia came out in her brown mink coat and toque with Dorothy beside her in a plain, blue cloth coat; and everybody who glanced their way, looked again.
"They're asking who you are," Dorothy whispered in her excitement at appearing as companion to this beautiful person and she flushed as they came down to the walk. Fidelia did not flush at all; she was used to being stared at and could gaze back easily and impersonally.
She did so now, into the eyes of boys, mostly. Some of these on the way to classes really were men, she saw; but no one here was like David Herrick.
She had an extravagant idea, after meeting him so
