Part 3 For a time they walked in silence through the back streets that lead southward from the College. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. ‘Tell me, my boy. The dance itself was anticlimactic, with teenagers trying their best to look the part of adult sophisticates on the dance floor. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. Here I am. “You poor little girl!” he cried. She explained she was expecting an important interview, and asked that her visitor should be duly shown in.
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