He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. Their conversation became stilted. I would sooner see you in a ’bus again. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. She wondered why he was so distinctive, so unlike other men, and it never occurred to her for some time that this might be because she was falling in love with him. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly.
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