Could it be that she was responsible for this new Marty?
Was Alice too terribly right when she had talked about armor turning into broadcloth because of her selfish desire to remain a kid a little longer?
She was afraid to ask him where he was when he had felt that she wanted him, and she hated herself for that.
There was a short silence.
These two young things had lost the complete confidence that had been theirs before they had come to that great town.

What a pity! "Well," he asked, standing straight like a man ready to take orders, "why did you call ?" And then an overwhelming shyness seized her.

It had seemed easy enough in thought to tell Martin that she was ready to cross the bridge and be, as Alice had called it, honest, and as Gilbert had said, to play the game.

But it was far from easy when he stood in the middle of the room in the glare of the light, with something all about him that froze her words and made her self-conscious and timid.

And yet a clear, unmistakable voice urged her to have courage and make her confession, say that she was sorry for having been a feather-brained little fool and ask him to forgive--to win him back, if--if she hadn't already lost him.
But she blundered into an answer and spoke flippantly from nervousness.
"Because it's rather soon to become a grass widow, and I want you to be seen with me somewhere to-morrow." That was all, then.