” They were in the elder Widgett girl’s bedroom; Hetty was laid up, she said, with a sprained ankle, and a miscellaneous party was gossiping away her tedium. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. Her father was holding her waist, smiling. In some things, in many things, you must trust to your elders, to those who know more of life than you do. Secretly she was gratified to be assigned to the rôle of an old traveller. She could have kissed Cathy.
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