XIII + 

Jones dragged her resisting among shadows. A crepe-myrtle bush obscured them. + 

“Let me go!” she said, struggling. + 

“What’s the matter with you? You kissed me once, didn’t you?” + 

“Let me go,” she repeated. + 

“What for? For that goddam dead man? What does he care about you?” He held her until her nervous energy, deserting her, left her fragile as a captured bird. He stared at the white blur which was her face and she was aware of the shapeless looming bulk of his body in the darkness, smelling wool and tobacco. + 

“Let me go,” she repeated piteously, and finding herself suddenly free, she fled across grass, knowing dew on her shoes, seeing gratefully a row of men sitting like birds on the balustrade. Mr. Rivers’ ironed face, above his immaculate linen, met her and she grasped his arm. + 

“Let’s dance, Lee,” she said thinly, striking her body sharply against him, taking the broken suggestion of saxophones. + 