The afternoon had passed now into twilight. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. I suppose it depends on her own state of mind. She had maintained a B in each subject except History, which she occasionally felt compelled to strive for A’s in, considering she had lived through most of it. She could read that Martin had a crush on her and was perhaps even going to try and challenge John as he was the bold sort. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that. “I wish they did,” he said, “but they don’t. .
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