She played “Happy Birthday” for John, after which they plied her with a dozen requests. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. We wore invisible chains and invisible blinkers. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. A young man, who had been spending the last hour walking up and down on the opposite side of the way, came quickly over to her.
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