“What you don’t understand,” I explained to Simmon one afternoon as we sat under the pennant pole, “is that men fall for Denna all the time. Do you know what that’s like for her? How tiresome it is? I am one of her few friends. I won’t risk that. I won’t throw myself at her. She doesn’t want it. I will not be one of the hundred cow-eyed suitors who go mooning after her like love-struck sheep.”
