“No,” Martin answered. “I can’t see the advantage.”
“I know the advantage,” said Carol softly. “I wish you’d try and change just a little bit.” He hesitated, his eyes shining. “I can’t tell you—but I could teach you, Martin.”
“How did this begin, Carol?”
The boy gave him a fond, acquisitive glance.
“It began that afternoon at Deane’s. You took my part. And then, at the drag, you were so beautiful in your yellow gown that I fell in love right away. How did you do your hair? It was perfect!”
“Damned if I know,” said Martin. He stared out the window again.
Carol lowered his head, pouting.
“But it wasn’t fixed the same way after you came down with Drew.”
“No?” asked Martin absently.