The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. She could tell that he probably wanted to kiss her, but she did not act upon the opportunity. \"So, guess who just asked me to the Junior Prom?\" Lucy's eyes widened. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. But she was relentless. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. But her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke. " "When you heard what was going on, why didn't you send for me?" "I didn't know it was going on.
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