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           Ifitwere

           anyonebutyou—butyouseeIthoughtyouwereficklethefirst

           timeIsawyouandyouaresopopularandeverthingthatIcan’t

           imagineyoureallylikingmebest.

           Oh,Isabelle,dear—it’sawonderfulnight.Somebodyisplaying

           "LoveMoon"onamandolinfaracrossthecampus,andthemusic

           seemstobringyouintothewindow.Nowhe’splaying"Good-by,

           Boys,I’mThrough,"andhowwellitsuitsme.ForIamthrough

           witheverything.Ihavedecidednevertotakeacocktailagain,

           andIknowI’llneveragainfallinlove—Icouldn’t—you’vebeen

           toomuchapartofmydaysandnightstoeverletmethinkof

           anothergirl.Imeetthemallthetimeandtheydon’tinterestme.

           I’mnotpretendingtobeblasé,becauseit’snotthat.It’sjust

           thatI’minlove.Oh,dearestIsabelle(somehowIcan’tcallyou

           justIsabelle,andI’mafraidI’llcomeoutwiththe"dearest"

           beforeyourfamilythisJune),you’vegottocometotheprom,

           andthenI’llcomeuptoyourhouseforadayandeverything’llbe

           perfect....

           Andsooninaneternalmonotonethatseemedtobothoftheminfinitelycharming,infinitelynew.

           Junecameandthedaysgrewsohotandlazythattheycouldnotworryevenaboutexams,butspentdreamyeveningsonthecourtofCottage,talkingoflongsubjectsuntilthesweepofcountrytowardStonyBrookbecameabluehazeandthelilacswerewhitearoundtennis-courts,andwordsgavewaytosilentcigarettes....