And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. McClintock liked it. “I demand to know what is going on right now! How dare you come here telling MY child that she has to answer YOUR questions! This little girl has never done anything wrong in the two and a half years she has lived with us!” Larry came down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. We men are like children. Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones. .
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