Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. “Are we interrupting anything?” “No!” Martin jumped slightly. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. Her eye met his four inches away, and his was glaring, immense, and full of resolution, a stupendous monster of an eye. It was a duel, you understand, and that is not permitted.
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