Chapter 33

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the girls, where she could have laughed and chattered to her heart’s content. There was not much of either laughter or chatter in Billy. He was a big fat stolid youth of twenty, with a round expressionless face and a painful lack of conversational gifts. But he admired Anne immensely and was puffed up with pride over the prospect of driving to White Sands with that slim, upright figure beside him.

Anne, by dint of talking over her shoulder to the girls and occasionally passing a sop of civility to Billy – who grinned and chuckled and never could think of any reply until it was too late – contrived to enjoy the drive in spite of all. It was a night for enjoyment. The road was full of buggies, all bound for the