She bought her Greyhound ticket one steamy afternoon when school let out at eleven thirty A. An early bird clarinetist burst through in a long black skirt, swishing like a bell. He looked half at her and half at the sky. "Ah! what is that?" he cried, pointing to a dark object floating near them amid the boiling waves, and which presented a frightful resemblance to a human face. "Ruth!" She had gone to the door, aimlessly, without purpose. It is the worst of talk under such social circumstances that it is always getting cut off so soon as it is beginning; and I went home that afternoon feeling I had said nothing—literally nothing—of the things I had meant to say to you and that were coursing through my head. “Where were you?” He inquired, rubbing her shoulders.
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