“But we can’t spend it here, just you and I. The college doesn’t allow it. Besides, you haven’t had dinner. Where’ll we dine?”
“Anywhere.”
“What do you say to punting down to Sandford and dinner at the inn there?”
“I’m game.”
As we passed through the quads, men were coming out of Hall from dinner. Some of them went thundering up wooden-stairs to their rooms, tearing off their gowns. Others strolled arm-in-arm joking and conversing, smoking cigarettes. At sight of Fiesole, they hauled up sharply. She was a man’s woman, and they were struck by her beauty. With one accord they turned unobstrusively and hurried their steps towards the lodge, to catch one more glimpse of her face as she passed out. She betrayed no sign that she was aware of the sensation she was creating. She advanced beside me with eyes modestly lowered, enhancing her allurement with a serene air of innocence. Out in the street her manner changed.
“The men do that always,” she said, “and, do you know, I rather like them for it.”
“What do they do?”
“Stare after me.”
“Don’t wonder Brookins was shocked by you, Fiesole. You’re a very shocking person. You say the most alarming things.”
She laid her hand on my arm for a second. “But I say them charmingly. Don’t I?”