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Marks, Percy

"The Plastic Age"

Listen, Hugh." She faced him bravely. "I've been running with
a fast crowd for three years, and I've learned a lot about fellows; and
most of 'em that I've known weren't your kind. How old are you?"
"Twenty-one in a couple of months."
"I'm twenty and lots wiser about some things than you are. I've been
crazy about you--I guess I am kinda yet--and I know that you thought you
were in love with me. I wanted you to have hold of me all the time.
That's all that mattered. It was--was your body, Hugh. You're sweet and
fine, and I respect you, but I'm not the kid for you to run around with.
I'm too fast. I woke up early this morning, and I've done a lot of
thinking since. You know what we came near doing last night? Well,
that's all we want each other for. We're not in love."
A phrase from the bull sessions rushed into Hugh's mind. "You mean--sex
attraction?" he asked in some embarrassment. He felt weak and tired. He
seemed to be listening to Cynthia in a dream. Nothing was real--and
everything was a little sad.
"Yes, that's it--and, oh, Hugh, somehow I don't want that with you.
We're not the same kind at all.


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