She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. Manning central in her mind. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. He seemed to do ten things before she could think to do one, to leap upon her and take possession. “That is where I got confused,” he said. He appeared suddenly from the infinite in the neighborhood of the Burlington Arcade, crossing the pavement toward her and with his eyes upon her. Lucy collapsed to the floor in a sob. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. Ask your own conscience.
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