No, he had made a mistake, after all--she was
not the real girl. Suddenly conscious of a little
shock of pain, he dismissed that dream girl from
his mind, and determined to meet Miss Huling
half way in her game. He could not flirt as well
as he could pitch; still, he was no novice.
``Well, Miss Huling, my word certainly is not
involved. But as to pitching for Salisbury--that
depends.''
``Upon what?''
``Upon what there is in it.''
``Mr. Wayne, you mean--money? Oh, I know.
My brother Rex told me how you college men are
paid big sums. Our association will not give a
dollar, and, besides, my brother knows nothing of
this. But we girls are heart and soul on winning
this game. We'll----''
``Miss Huling, I didn't mean remuneration in
sordid cash,'' interrupted Wayne, in a tone that
heightened the color in her cheeks.
Wayne eyed her keenly with mingled emotions.
Was that rose-leaf flush in her cheeks natural?
Some girls could blush at will. Were the wistful
eyes, the earnest lips, only shamming? It cost
him some bitterness to decide that they were.
Her beauty fascinated, while it hardened him.
Eternally, the beauty of women meant the undoing
of men, whether they played the simple,
inconsequential game of baseball, or the great,
absorbing, mutable game of life.
The shame of the situation for him was increasingly
annoying, inasmuch as this lovely girl
should stoop to flirtation with a stranger, and the
same time draw him, allure him, despite the
apparent insincerity.
Pages:
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188