CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way. The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. “You poor thing. ‘I ain’t done nothing wrong, I swear it. Something unpardonable is laid to my charge. ” “But how did you defend yourself? Was he so high on drugs that he couldn’t fight back or something?” Michelle asked. I’m a soldier, you see. You are a great deal more like what I was a few months ago than I am now.
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