She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. Another picture slid across her vision. Ennison, or any other young man. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. Martin’s parents looked at each other in embarrassed, silent communication. “I wouldn’t have been without this trip for worlds. Out of the beaten track! He must not appear too eager. "You've given him a broken head, I perceive. He's more like a lord than—" As she spoke, steps were heard approaching; the door was thrown open, and a young man marched boldly into the room. Lucy changed into her Goodwill jeans and sweatshirt, plastering her hair down with an elastic band and securing it under a tight hood.
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