He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. Save us!" he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. ” 200 < 25 > MEETING MARTIN CHEN She tried out for the Lincoln High orchestra on a whim. The girl only smiled at him serenely, but she laid her hand for a moment quietly upon his. “What do you think of that?” he asked.
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