Dawn of a New Day by Gilbert Morris

She really likes clothes.”
    â€œAre you two going to get married, Mark?” It was the first time she had ever asked Mark directly, and although Debbie had no ring, everyone seemed to be sure that she would have one soon enough. She watched as Mark pulled his cap off and ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration, or so it seemed to her.
    â€œI don’t know,” he said. “Not for a long time; I’ve got some things to do first.”
    When Prue said nothing, he added, “But I came over to ask you if you wouldn’t like to go to the prom. Have you been asked yet?”
    â€œNo, I haven’t.”
    â€œWell, that won’t be any problem,” Mark said quickly. “I know half a dozen guys that would like to have a date.”
    â€œHow tall are they?” Prue said, a tiny smile turning the corners of her generous lips up. When she saw Mark hesitate, she said, “Don’t worry about me, Mark. I don’t really want to go.”
    Mark hesitated, then shrugged. “All right, but if you change your mind let me know. There are always some fellows who wait till the last minute. Good-bye, Prue.”
    He went at once to Debbie’s house, and as he pulled up he felt a moment’s reluctance. Debbie’s mother was very society minded, and the house was like a museum. He told Debbie once, in a jocular fashion, “Your mother ought to make people take their shoes off like they do in China. Or is it Japan?” Debbie had not found that amusing, and he had not referred to it again.
    Moving up the porch, he rang the bell, and when Mrs. Peters opened it, he said, “Hello, Mrs. Peters. Is Debbie around?”
    â€œYes. Come in, Mark.” Mrs. Peters was a small woman, overweight from rich foods. She had been pretty as a girl, Mark supposed. In fact he knew it, for he had seen pictures. She had looked exactly like Debbie when she was a young woman. This had given him some pause, and he had tried to visualize Debbie as a thirty-five- or forty-year-old woman. Mrs. Peters was all right, but she sure needed to lose some weight.
    â€œHave you decided about the football scholarships, Mark?”
    Mark hesitated, then said, “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, Mrs. Peters.”
    â€œWell, I know it would be thrilling for you to go to some of the schools in the East, but I’m hoping you will go to the University of Arkansas. It’s so close to home, and we’ll get to see you and Debbie so often.”
    â€œWell, that may be,” Mark said noncommittally. At that moment Debbie came in, and for the next half hour he was subjected to the latest on dresses for the prom. This was rather boring to Mark, to whom the prom was just another dance, but Debbie put special emphasis on it, and he made himself show all the interest he could possibly work up.
    â€œI guess we’d better get started if we’re going to catch the movie, Debbie,” Mark said, looking at his watch. He managed to maneuver her out, and Mrs. Peters gave the inevitable warning about “Drive safe, and have her home early; Mr. Peters will be here, and you two can talk about the university. He went there, you know, and played football.”
    Mark had heard this at least a hundred times, but he managed to keep himself from looking bored. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll be in early.”
    They went to the movie, which was not particularly exciting, and as soon as they were out, Debbie said, “Let’s go down to Cranston’s and get something to eat.” Mark agreed, and he sat there eating a hamburger, drinking a chocolate malt, and listening to Debbie talk rapidly about the prom. Who was going with whom, and who was not going with whom. Finally they left, and when they pulled up at the Peters’ home, he shut off the engine and said, “Debbie, I’ve got to talk to you about something.”
    Debbie turned to him, her eyes wide with