IT WAS just adorable of you to come."
Ruth was getting out of the car. They kissed.
"Why, Phyllis! How sweet you look! Gracious: I thought this was a Picnic, and here you are in a dance frock. For Heaven's sake lead me to hot water. Those awful Pullmans; I'm simply speckled with cinders. I feel gritty all over."
That, of course, must be Miss Clyde, on the front seat.
"How do you do! After all these years! I don't suppose we'd have known each other. But we ought to, George admires your work so much."
They shook hands. It was a hard, capable little hand, calloused like a boy's. Phyllis knew now that she remembered the grey-green eyes: agates, gold-flecked, with light behind them. Eyes softly shadowed underneath, as though from too much eagerness to understand; eyes dipped in darkness. The small shy child of long ago, who stood apart from games. How many strange moments had both been through since last they met?
