She rose and walked aside, ostensibly studying the green fountain (which augmented her suffering with its tinkling splash). "Oh, Calvin," she said.
He came over to her. "Yes, dear?"
"Calvin, I—" she halted unable to phrase her question. But he did it for her.
"I've been thinking: if there are—certain basic needs—I mean, if you find it necessary to—"
"I do, Calvin," she said gratefully.
"Oh. Well, there is the, hmm, sand box. I believe it's meant for such, ah, purposes."
"Calvin! In front of you, in front of these strangers?" She was shocked, and put up one hand to push nervously at her hair, which felt untidy.
"We'll ask them to turn their backs. After all, such things must be attended to."
"I'd rather die," she said, but not at all certainly.
"There are sacrifices to be made in this predicament, and modesty is one," he clipped out. "Er, gentlemen."