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Spires and Gargoyles
Itputthemonequalterms,althoughshewasquitecapableofstagingherownromances,withorwithoutadvanceadvertising.Butfollowingherhappytrembleofanticipation,cameasinkingsensationthatmadeherask:
"Howdoyoumeanhe’sheardaboutme?Whatsortofthings?"
Sallysmiled.Shefeltratherinthecapacityofashowmanwithhermoreexoticcousin.
"Heknowsyou’re—you’reconsideredbeautifulandallthat"—shepaused—"andIguessheknowsyou’vebeenkissed."
AtthisIsabelle’slittlefisthadclinchedsuddenlyunderthefurrobe.Shewasaccustomedtobethusfollowedbyherdesperatepast,anditneverfailedtorouseinherthesamefeelingofresentment;yet—inastrangetownitwasanadvantageousreputation.Shewasa"Speed,"wasshe?Well—letthemfindout.
OutofthewindowIsabellewatchedthesnowglidebyinthefrostymorning.ItwaseversomuchcolderherethaninBaltimore;shehadnotremembered;theglassofthesidedoorwasiced,thewindowswereshirredwithsnowinthecorners.Hermindplayedstillwithonesubject.Didhedresslikethatboythere,whowalkedcalmlydownabustlingbusinessstreet,inmoccasinsandwinter-carnivalcostume?HowveryWestern!Ofcoursehewasn’tthatway:hewenttoPrinceton,wasasophomoreorsomething.Reallyshehadnodistinctideaofhim.Anancientsnap-shotshehadpreservedinanoldkodakbookhadimpressedherbythebigeyes(whichhehadprobablygrownuptobynow).
