Myra was quite overcome. He turned the green eyes on her again.75 ”You’re the only girl in town I like much,” he exclaimed in a rush of sentiment. “You’re simpatico.” Myra was not sure that she was, but it sounded stylish though vaguely improper. Thick dusk had descended outside, and as the limousine made a sudden turn she was jolted against him; their hands touched. ”You shouldn’t smoke, Amory,” she whispered. “Don’t you know that?” He shook his head.80 ”Nobody cares.” Myra hesitated. "I care.” Something stirred within Amory. ”Oh, yes, you do! You got a crush on Froggy Parker. I guess everybody knows that.”85 ”No, I haven’t,” very slowly. A silence, while Amory thrilled. There was something fascinating about Myra, shut away here cosily from the dim, chill air. Myra, a little bundle of clothes, with strands of yellow hair curling out from under her skating cap. ”Because I’ve got a crush, too—” He paused, for he heard in the distance the sound of young laughter, and, peering through the frosted glass along the lamp-lit street, he made out the dark outline of the bobbing party. He must act quickly. He reached over with a violent, jerky effort, and clutched Myra’s hand—her thumb, to be exact.
You’ve been away too long
But she will choose to believe
And her heart is so strong
It’s strong enough, if only it could see