As they met, she smiled at him. He was certain he did not know her but he stopped and was polite, feeling that he must find out who she was and where he had met her.
“How do you do?” Emma Lou held out her hand. He shifted the cup of water from his right hand to his left. “I'm glad to see you again.” They shook hands. His clasp was warm, his palm soft and sweaty. The supple lad stepped to one side. “I—I,” Emma Lou was speaking now, “have often wondered if we would meet again.” Alva wanted to laugh. He could not imagine who this girl with the purple-powdered skin was. Where had he seen her? She must be mistaking him for some one else. Well, he was game. He spoke sincerely:
“And I, too, have wanted to see you.”
Emma Lou couldn’t blush, but she almost blubbered with joy.
“Perhaps we’ll have a dance together.”
“My God,” thought Alva, “She’s a quick worker.”
“Oh, certainly, where can I find your”
“Downstairs on the promenade, near the center boxes.”
‘“The one after this?”’ This seemed to be the easiest way out. He could easily dodge her later.
“Yes,” and she moved away, the supple lad clinging to her arm again.
