"The key's on the outside— quick! quick!" Instantly alive to this chance, Blueskin broke away. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. “You’re exactly as I remember you!” “Forever fifteen, remember?” She stepped closer to him into the light of the television screen. Evidently he was gazing at the dull red roofs of the city: but was he registering what he saw? Never glance sideways at man, the old Kanaka woman had said. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time.
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