She was a very traditional girl to begin with; she liked Sylvan Cheney, but only to the extent of a secret crush.
At most, she would ask him out for a meal or to attend a party.
But, without exception, he almost always refused.
Joan Harry shook her head, not wanting to think about it anymore.
There wasn't much to think about.
After this, there would no longer be any connection.
Not even the most basic superior-subordinate relationship.
Joan Harry bid farewell to Sylvan Cheney, walked alone down to the tea house, and hailed a taxi by the road back to the Harry Family.
It was hard to catch a taxi in this part of the road; Joan Harry had been standing for a long time without any luck.
Just as she passed another traffic light and walked on, suddenly, a white Maserati pulled up alongside her.
The window was half lowered, and the man in the back seat, dressed in a white suit and wearing sunglasses, gave a wicked smile: "What a coincidence, Joan."
