That was many years ago when he was ten, and he had lived close and alone with her for ten more years. His mother did not breath at peace, like other women--like other people. David’s mind flew to another happening and stayed there.... A girl came in with her machine, it was the first year he worked in Mr. Devitt’s bicycle shop, now he remembered. He must have been fifteen. He was already tall, the full golden down on his cheeks and lips disturbed and inspired him. It was a splendid brand-new _Eagle_ with one of those coaster-brakes that seemed a miracle even after he had learned to put them on, take them apart. Mr. Devitt and Joe were in the shop, but she stayed there in the door, balancing a moment, and came to him straight. The front tire was punctured. “This won’t take but five minutes,” he said. “You’ll wait, won’t you?” No one in the shop noticed how she stood there before him, with her feet slightly apart and firm, and in some way made him look at her--as he had never cared to look at a girl. His heart beat fast: he saw her. She had a soft throat, she had bright hair, her body was slender music. She said: “I’m in a hurry: couldn’t you bring it to me? My name is Miss Marshall. You know--Elm Street.” It was near the time for going home. He thought that he did not wish to take it, but it was near the time for going home and he could not say no. He went. She came slowly to meet him: she took the wheel from him very fast and leaned it against the tall grape arbor. She paid him his money. He moved away; she looked at him; and her eyes held him. He stood there fixed; her eyes went up and down the arbor and the garden. Up and about went her eyes and their meaning was clear: they could not be seen. She stepped close. She placed her hands on his shoulders, her eyes were now under his. David looked down from her eyes to her soft still bare throat--to her body. He could see her little breasts like apples within her blouse. He saw that they were quiet. They were round and hard and quiet. A strange will crept over David: that they should be soft and heaving. For this reason his arms went over her, he kissed her mouth. He held her at his arm’s length. Her face was white. There was mist over her look at him. Her breasts moved! Deep, hard she breathed and her breasts moved! He was afraid. He wanted to get away. He was a little sick with what he had done. He left her. He did not kiss her again.... The guests raced, the woods brooded, near David sitting with his past. The rain let up. Trees rose higher and more sheer, they were black in the sky. A faint wave of air came upon the grasses: they were a film of green and yellow and purple over the ground. The grasses flowed into the air where the heavy rain had been. David saw how the sky changed. It was farther away and solid, no longer shredding in mist.