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Updated: September 11, 2024
There was nothing to be seen except that delicate fluff of white, supported on dainty white-socked, white-slippered limbs. "Say," said Johnny. "You are real cruel, when I I saved your li-fe," wailed Lily. "Say," said Johnny, "maybe if I don't see any other girl I like better I will marry you when I am grown up, but I won't if you don't stop that howling." Lily stopped immediately.
He sighed and looked on the ground, lifted one white-socked foot, removed its yellow slipper, shook out a tiny stone from the slipper and put it on again, slowly, gracefully and very sadly. Then he pulled the white sock up with both hands and glanced at Domini out of the corners of his eyes. "What's the matter?"
His trousers had once been white cotton drill, but the whiteness had long before given up the unequal struggle against grime and grease and subsided to a less conspicuous, less perishable grey. They had been cut off just below the knees and, unhemmed, hung flapping with every step he took above a stretch of white-socked, spindly shanks. But it was the coat he wore which held Caleb spellbound.
A lank, disconcerted, hesitating young man it was, flaxen-haired, gaping of mouth, awkward, stricken to misery by the lights and company. His clothing was butternut, with bright blue tie, showing four inches of bony wrist and white-socked ankle. He upset a chair, sat in another one, curled a foot around a table leg and cringed at the approach of a waiter.
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