Sitting out with her one night on the veranda of the Lafayette Club, Charley felt a necessity to boast to her, to pretend to be more experienced, and so more potentially protective.
“I’ve seen a lot of life for my age,” he said. “I’ve done things I couldn’t even tell you about.”
Gladys didn’t answer.
“In fact last week—” he began, and thought better of it. “In any case I don’t think I’ll go to Yale next year—I’d have to go East right away, and tutor all summer. If I don’t go, there’s a job open in Father’s office; and after Wister goes back to college in the fall, I’ll have the roadster to myself.”
“I thought you were going to college,” Gladys said coldly.
“I was. But I’ve thought things over, and now I don’t know. I’ve usually gone with older boys, and I feel older than boys my age.
