Did you happen to hear his name?"
"Yes, he was a junior."
"Who was it?"
"Ramsey Milholland."
Chapter XX
Fred Mitchell, crossing the campus one morning, ten days later, saw Dora
standing near the entrance of her dormitory, where he would pass her
unless he altered his course; and as he drew nearer her and the details
of her face grew into distinctness, he was indignant with himself
for feeling less and less indignation toward her in proportion to the
closeness of his approach. The pity that came over him was mingled with
an unruly admiration, causing him to wonder what unpatriotic stuff
he could be made of. She was marked, but not whipped; she still held
herself straight under all the hammering and cutting which, to his
knowledge, she had been getting.
She stopped him, "for only a moment," she said, adding with a wan
profoundness: "That is, if you're not one of those who feel that I
shouldn't be 'spoken to'?"
"No," said Fred, stiffly. "I may share their point of view, perhaps, but
I don't feel called upon to obtrude it on you in that manner.
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