Fortunately, Angie and Connie did, too. They both smiled knowingly and immediately stood to remove their empty trays.
"Nice meeting you, ladies," Millson waved.
"You, too, Bob," they answered in unison as they hurried away to the tray racks.
"I have a class at one thirty," Yvonne announced.
"So do I," Millson replied. He concentrated on measured breathing. Sitting this close to the woman of his dreams, the elusive, distant Yvonne Koopermann, felt like looking at a hologram. It suddenly occurred to him that scores of eyes were boring into his back, eagerly awaiting the inevitable rebuff.
"What's yours in?" she asked.
"New Testament Greek," he answered, "the same class as your fiance Clyde." This acknowledgment relaxed him somewhat. It suggested his purpose as friendly rather than amor
