The more I saw of her, the more I liked. She was, if anything, on the plain side, at least not the type to attract men wherever she went. But there was something in her face that was meant for me alone. Every time we met, I took a good long look at her. And I loved what I saw. “Why are you staring at me?” she’d ask. “‘Cause you’re pretty,” I’d reply. “You’re the first one who’s ever said that.” “I’m the only one who knows,” I’d tell her. “And believe me, I know.” At first she didn’t believe me. But soon she did.
