Suddenly, he saw Martia Dewitt at the commissary counter. There were also two young women with year old youngsters in their arms, buying suckers to keep them from yowling. But he was interested only in Martia. This time he had caught her alone.
The girl was dressed neatly in a blue, pleated skirt, red jacket and lacy blouse with a velvet tie and a yellow straw hat, red bobby socks and black shoes; but there was a home-spun look about her clothes that hinted at a struggle to maintain appearances.
When Martia spotted him, she lowered her eyes and attempted to hurry past, but he caught her, gently, surprised at his own boldness. "We might as well talk about it now," he said to her quickly. "There won't be another chance."
She held her eyes averted, strained slightly to be released, then relaxed. Her large, clear blue eyes found his and his head swam.
"All right," she answered, simply.
They could not find a seat by the observation panels, which was to be expected, so they stood near the drinking fountain and looked at each other's feet.
"Then it's true," said Henry. "We have something to talk about, don't we?"
"Yes," she replied, glancing quickly at him and then looking down again.
"Well—what is it?" he asked.
"I—I don't know. I thought you—"