He continued to do this for the rest of the evening intermittently, in and out, among other topics. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. Lucy didn’t seem like a teenage girl at all to Sheila and she knew it. She wondered occasionally why his mind needed so much distraction. "He has quite the air of one. No one ate with as much passionate gusto as a teenager could. There! You are trying to take your hand away. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake,” she said.
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