She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. Rank ingratitude, I call it. His technique had gained much subtlety over the years. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. \"This is my best friend, Mark. Dinner was served at 5:30. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step.
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