” “You need help, Luce. " He started to pick up a sheet of manuscript, but she pushed him from the table toward the doorway; and he staggered out of the bungalow, suddenly stretched his arms, and broke into a trot. “And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all. You would suffer the torments of the damned for what you had done. She looked down at him and saw that the sunlight was gleaming from his cheeks, and that all over his cheeks was a fine golden down of delicate hairs. " He drew down the lamp and blew it out, and followed her into the night, more lovely than he had ever imagined night to be. There's good stuff in him, if one could find the way to dig it out.
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