However, it was dark on account of the firs. Approaching the door one late spring afternoon, Len tripped on an unnoticed flagstone and scattered examination papers all the way to the porch.
When he picked himself up, Moira was giggling in the doorway. "That was funny."
"The hell it was," said Len. "I banged my nose." He picked up his Chemistry B papers in a stiff silence. A red drop fell on the last one. "Damn it!"
Moira held the screen door for him, looking contrite and faintly surprised. She followed him into the bathroom. "Len, I didn't mean to laugh. Does it hurt much?"
"No," said Len, staring fiercely at his scraped nose in the mirror. It was throbbing like a gong.
"That's good. It was the funniest thing—I mean funny-peculiar," she clarified hastily.
en stared at her; the whites of her eyes were showing: "Is there anything the matter with you?" he demanded.