I want you to be my lover. She moaned as she touched him. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. “Oh, dammit!” he remarked, “dammit!” with great bitterness as he faced it. ” “It is ironic that you say that, John, for it is I who am afraid of you. ’ ‘Where then is your uniform?’ ‘I don’t wear it to balls. \" \"Would you like me to carry some of the books? I have nothing to bring home today. ” “I’m curious.
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