The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. “There’s no one here except me. “Let us walk across the Park at least,” he said to Ann Veronica. Run along while I rig up and get the part in my hair straight. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. The storm appeared to have blown over, for they were conversing in a very amicable manner with Mr. " "Others may, if you won't," muttered Jack, retiring. “I have the right to be here. "Tomorrow I shall have a visitor.
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