She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. \" She knew he was blushing in the dark. Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. From the unlovely hillside his glance strayed to the several five-story towers of the pawnshops. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. Never bought a shirt in my life, Mr. Probably he taught me what a joke was merely to irritate my father; for suddenly Father stopped my going to the store for things and sent our old Kanaka cook instead. “Just the box only.
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