“No, no,” she cried. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. His arm closed in around her middle and she was caught. With incredible labour, and by the aid of both spike and nail, he succeeded in getting the point of the bar beneath the fillet. He had been the one to dress her in the finest silks and brocades, and here she was, displayed for the world to see in 248 drugstore makeup and the uniform of an old schoolteacher. He had abandoned his oars, and the boat was drifting with the stream towards the enemy. The students passed Juicy Fruit sticks and notes back and forth, bartering various forms of social currency. One she entered and met with a sharp rebuff, which she appeared to receive unmoved.
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