The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. “There was a keg, hash, LSD, pot, you know, the usual. ’ ‘Gosse,’ corrected Lucilla. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself.
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