"Li'l ole me, y'all?" She blinked at me. "Did I do that right?"I said, "Nah, but you can come along anyway."Martha watched, smirking while I talked Ro...nie into it. As we rose to leave for Little Italy, Martha whispered to me, "Good going, cowboy. The afternoon with Marilyn must have taught you something, after all."At last she's pleased," I mumbled, raising my eyes to heaven, and Martha elbowed my ribs.We visited three restaurants in Little Italy. Again, it was another amazing New York. But this Eton thing was horrid. For years this hadprevented Basil from having any sort of social life when at home. He lookedridiculous in Edwardian clothes, and so stayed in his mother?s big walledgarden. Wheneverhe?d ventured from the garden, even to go on an errand to the store, Cockneyboys would throw bottles and rocks at him and call him ?fag? or ?pouf?. Even elderlyladies could not keep from smiling as he pranced by in his little Etonian suit. Many times apretty girl had noticed him eying. More

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