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straightened up quickly.
"These aren't rags," I retorted. He started to
laugh again. It seemed I could do nothing, say
nothing, gaze at him in no way without causing him to
become hysterical. "What's so funny? These happen
to be my sole belongins right now," I emphasized. He
shook his head and held his wide smile.
"Really, Gisselle, you're perfect. I swear," he
said, holding up his hand to take an oath, "this is the
best you've ever come up with, and that indignant
attitude to go along with it . . . you're going to win the
prize for sure. All of your girlfriends will die with
envy. Brilliant. And to surprise me, too. I love it." "First," I began, "my name is not Gisselle." "Oh," he said, still holding a grin as if he were
humoring a mad woman, "and what name have you
chosen?"
"My name is Ruby," I said.
"Ruby? I like that," he said, looking thoughtful.
"Ruby. . . a jewel. . . to describe your hair. Well, your
hair has always been your most prized possession,
aside from your real diamonds and rubies, emeralds,
and pearls, that is. And your clothes and your shoes,"
he cataloged with a laugh. "So," he said, straightening
up and changing to a serious face, "I'm to introduce
you to everyone as Mademoiselle Ruby, is that it?" "I don't care what you do," I said. "I certainly
don't expect you to introduce me to anyone," I added
and started away.
"Huh?" he cried. I started to cross the street
when he walked quickly behind me and seized my
right elbow. "What are you doing? Where are you
going?" he asked, his face now contorted in
