And I find I can't tell one stay from another!" McClintock laughed. It had been a trying day. He was waiting in the outer hall as she tiptoed in. In mid-bite, she heard a car door slam that was recognizable. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. The car ride to the new movie theater, a multiplex, was brief and harrowing. His ideas about girls and women were of a sentimental and modest quality; they were creatures, he thought, either too bad for a modern vocabulary, and then frequently most undesirably desirable, or too pure and good for life.
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