Lucy didn’t seem like a teenage girl at all to Sheila and she knew it. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. "Sit down, and enjoy yourself. She was surprised at his modesty. They pressed more insistently, forcing her lips open. “Do you know,” she confessed, “I never thought of that?” He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could possibly be in earnest. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened.
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