"You're very kind."
And off they strolled down the alley of tin cans known as Lover's Lane.
Eustace watched them sadly.
"So young and tender!" he thought. "Such chick-like innocence!" The wickedness of the world appalled him.
Hearing an unfamiliar voice, he looked up. Like a queenly galleon swaying from side to side, there approached a snowy, rounded whiteness. The paddling feet seemed scarcely to leave the ground. A golden-webbed goddess!
Eustace was spellbound.
She, all unconscious, continued to approach, caroling little toot-like honks. There was a soft rasp in her voice that thrilled him to the gizzard.
Seeing Eustace, she paused. Their eyes met. Then, with a pretty turn of her head, she looked at him out of the other eye.
"Who are you?" he said, as though in a dream.
"I am Phyllis," she answered simply.