“Good evening, Dorling,” he said. The world into which she was so boldly venturing was going to be wonderful, but never so wonderful as the world within these paper covers. It was his tall stance and his pale skin that drew him out of the crowd. Sara Darnell was a sprightly, svelte twenty-five year old who was known for serving detentions at meter maid frequency, if only to be taken marginally more seriously by the predominantly male Lincoln High Science Department. She had come to the end of her resources. “I had a faint idea once that things were as you say they are, but the affair of the ring—of the unexpected ring—puzzled me. "Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse.
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