"What about our bikes?"
"Nobody will bother them."
"Wait ... not so fast. My skirt's tight."
"Jump."
A field of grass: after the tank corps any field was inviting. In Ithaca, fields had extended toward the lake, downslope, fields between residences and groves: High above Cayuga's waters ... the Cornell song twanged for an instant.
He led the way.
Jeannette thought him handsome in his floppy trousers, tight striped jacket. How far off the hospital and its wounded! Orville, she said to herself. "Orv, Orv!" she said, as they walked through grass. Rushing forward she grabbed him, spun him around, and kissed him.
"You'd make a good tackle!"
"On your team."
He gestured: