“No,” I said.
“Well, I have.”
I thought she was just saying that to be polite in her own home. I looked down at my feet and didn’t answer.
“I have some friends up-stairs,” she said. “I mustn’t stay away from them too long.”
“Good night,” I said.
“Why the good night?” she said. “Put your hat down. You’re coming up-stairs with me for a little while.”
“How can I?” I said. “Your friends won’t want to mix with me. I’m just a bank clerk.”
“Great!” she said. “What bank?”
“The Twenty-first National.”
“Why, that’s funny,” she said. “My daddy is president of that bank. I’ll have to talk to him about you.”
As we went up the stairs arm in arm she said to me: “Are you going to be at the Midnight Rolick tomorrow night?”
“No,” I said regretfully. “No more crashing-the-gate for me.”
“You won’t have to,” she answered cheerfully. “Just give your name to the man at the door. And Teddy—” her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Yes?” Something made my heart go faster.
“After this we’ll do all our crashing together, shall we? You dance so nicely.”
“Joyce,” I cried, “I simply have to tell you. I’m crazy about y—”
“Sh!” she cautioned. “Save it for tomorrow night. There’s going to be a moon.”