But before he had time to figure anything out, she said, “Now I'm not going to have any argument about who’s paying.”
“I'm a liberated woman, Jess Aarons. When I invite a man out, I pay.”
He tried to think of some way to protest without ending up with the bill, but couldn't,
and found himself getting a three-dollar meal, which was far more than he had meant to have her spend on him.
Tomorrow he would check out with Leslie how he should have handled things.
After lunch, they trotted through the drizzle to the Smithsonian to see the dinosaurs and the Indians.
There they came upon a display case holding a miniature scene of Indians disguised in buffalo skins
scaring a herd of buffalo into stampeding over a cliff to their death with more Indians waiting below to butcher and skin them.
It was a three-dimensional nightmare version of some of his own drawings. He felt a frightening sense of kinship with it.
“Fascinating, isn't it?” Miss Edmunds said, her hair brushing his cheek as she leaned over to look at it.
He touched his cheek. “Yes’m.” To himself he said, I don't think I like it, but he could hardly pull himself away.
When they came out of the building, it was into brilliant spring sunshine. Jess blinked his eyes against the glare and the glisten.
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