“I’ve gotta go. His car was there. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. Her impressions of this cardinal ceremony were rich and confused, complicated by a quite transitory passion that awakened no reciprocal fire for a fat curly headed cousin in black velveteen and a lace collar, who assisted as a page. Oh, don't worry. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. She was glad when he went on: “I want to be your city of refuge from every sort of bother.
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