Well. A tokenlet of esteem at 6, life playing according to the rules of giving when one doesn't ask. I was standing; there she was; was I going to x? No I wasn't; a crinkle of disappointment on her face. Now crinkles of disappointment on people's face are more common, indeed, among the rich, in whom it can be insincere. I am inclined to think however that this crinkle wasn't insincere. At this point i really think the evidence is, if not overwhelming, at least strong enough for me to be confident about. Doch, doch! The plan that lies in the outer reaches of my mind: to facebook her. If only I used facebook, it were done, procul dubio. The thing is I have an objectively pathetic number of friends, which however I don't especially care to increase, even if that were possible, which it weren't, as I don't know many people. I think it were welcome. But; to stress the submerged, tho ridiculously obvious train of thought...Well, what is it? That she knows I have few friends, that I like her? The former she wouldn't care about, the latter she would - ex hypothesi - like. I am actually seriously considering this course of action at present. The problem is that we don't have occasion to encounter each other one-one, to the extent that we did last year.