” She stopped buttoning her glove, and looked at him. It’s the sort of way a woman always does gloss over her ethical positions. . She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. She fidgeted and looked away. She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence.
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