“Do you come here often?”

“Once in a while. Gosh, the sun’s strong.” She covered her eyes with tinted glasses.

“Remember Bobby Rupp? He married a beautiful girl.”

“So I heard.”

“Colleen Whitehurst. She’s really beautiful. And very nice, too.”

“Good for Bobby.” And to tease her, Dewey added, “But how about you? You must have a lot of beaus.”

“Well. Nothing serious. But that reminds me. Do you have the time? Oh,” she cried, when he told her it was past four, “I’ve gotta run! But it was nice to have seen you, Mr. Dewey.”

 “And nice to have seen you, Sue. Good luck,” he called after her as she disappeared down the path, a pretty girl in a hurry, her smooth hair swinging, shining – just such a young woman as Nancy might have been. Then, starting home, he walked toward the trees, and under them, leaving behind him the big sky, the whisper of wind voices in the wind-bent wheat.

– Truman Capote