In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. I wonder if he really wants me to go home. Sorry. Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. ‘Forgive this intrusion, ma’am, I beg. “A man like that taints a girl by looking at her, by his mere conversation. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. Anyhow, that is how things are. The truth was impossible, indecent. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night.
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