She caught herself on the verge involuntarily of pressing his hand that held hers.
"No, Bert, don't tease he's right," Mary was saying.

"We've got to get some sleep.

It's fancy starch to-morrow, and all day on our feet." It came to Saxon with a chill pang that she was surely older than Billy.
She stole glances at the smoothness of his face, and the essential boyishness of him, so much desired, shocked her.

Of course he would marry some girl years younger than himself, than herself.

How old was he?
Could it be that he was too young for her?
As he seemed to grow inaccessible, she was drawn toward him more compellingly.