He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish. He hoped he would get to see the two suitors face off over Lucy. Keeping to the shadow of the house, he crept forward until he could see better without, he hoped, being seen. Stanley coughed and faced toward the house. Manning’s handwriting had an air of being clear without being easily legible; it was large and rather roundish, with a lack of definition about the letters and a disposition to treat the large ones as liberal-minded people nowadays treat opinions, as all amounting to the same thing really—a yearssmoothed boyish rather than an adult hand. “Turn me.
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