“I should think YOU could do all sorts of things. ” “Oh, well!” he said, a little doubtfully, “it’s just a phase,” and bent down and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, with his heart beating and his nerves a-quiver. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. This was the worst summer that I ever had in my life, Europe and all, and I can’t tell you how many times I drove by that Violin Camp hoping to catch a look at you, praying that there wasn’t some horny violin guy waiting to ask you out. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand.
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