" The manager began some computations. He leaned forward to better drink her in. All my life I've had to fight human wolves to hold what I have. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. It would not be possible otherwise to live in daily contact with this level-eyed, lovely girl without loving her. " "My conscience acquits me of all share in the offence," replied Jack, humbly. “No, I’d like to. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. Sheila’s boys hadn’t been much help when they were around the house, anyway, they were more partial to lolling around on couches and running around with their girls.
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