Stop it. “My dear Miss Pellissier,” he said impressively, “this is an unexpected pleasure. A young man, who had been spending the last hour walking up and down on the opposite side of the way, came quickly over to her. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. Won’t you let me—can’t I be of any assistance?” He was obviously in earnest.
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