\"You're a shoo in. But she veiled her feelings. His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. His hair flew out from the sides of his head like black bats from a belfry, it was unruly and long. “It really seems as if we shall have to put down marigolds altogether next year,” Aunt Molly repeated three times, “and do away with marguerites. His curiosity put itself into a question. Such a beautiful boy he is, but his intelligence is marginal. ” She stopped with an air of interrogation. I wonder if I should have locked you up if I’d been your father.
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