“Very much. Don’t you?”
Sybil nodded. “Do you like olives?” she asked.
“Olives—yes. Olives and wax. I never go anyplace without ‘em.”
“Do you like Sharon Lipschutz?” Sybil asked.
“Yes. Yes, I do,” said the young man. “What I like particularly about her is that she never does anything mean to little dogs in the lobby of the hotel. That little toy bull that belongs to that lady from Canada, for instance. You probably won’t believe this, but some little girls like to poke that little dog with balloon sticks. Sharon doesn’t. She’s never mean or unkind. That’s why I like her so much.”
Sybil was silent.
“I like to chew candles,” she said finally.
“Who doesn’t?” said the young man, getting his feet wet. “Wow! It’s cold.” He dropped the rubber float on its back. “No, wait just a second, Sybil. Wait’ll we get out a little bit.”
They waded out till the water was up to Sybil’s waist. Then the young man picked her up and laid her down on her stomach on the float.
“Don’t you ever wear a bathing cap or anything?” he asked.