"Set down the kid," roared Blueskin, savagely. This was the worst summer that I ever had in my life, Europe and all, and I can’t tell you how many times I drove by that Violin Camp hoping to catch a look at you, praying that there wasn’t some horny violin guy waiting to ask you out. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. “A joke! Sir John, if you had presented yourself here an hour ago we should have greeted you in pained silence. ’ It seems that I was mistaken.
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