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Mifflin College, Pennsylvania
1954

But it was definitely her roommate's fault. The matron had reminded them at the beginning of the school year that no boys were to be in the girls' rooms after 9:30, and that they absolutely must leave the premises of the women's dormitory at 10 p.m. Pam knew it, and she had told Roy that when she started at Mifflin College the year before. Shirley blew it though. She'd walked in the room just as Roy's right hand had gently closed on her breast. Roy never went too far and always respected her, but at moments like those, when Roy's thumb would just brush the tip of her breast, Pam would wish he was touching her skin, that he was grasping her nipple between his fingers to ease the ache.

Shirley had seen him do it, even though she'd said she would be at the library until "very late" that evening. Instead she'd surprised them and seen Roy and Pam separate abruptly and Pam's flushed cheeks and tousled hair. Shirley merely stood up even straighter and pushed her glasses up her nose with one finger. Turning on her heel, she'd left the room, and Pam knew she was in trouble.

Roy looked sheepish, and they'd left the room to walk slowly downstairs, where the matron would be waiting. The matron of Dunder Hall, Mrs. O'Brien, eyed Roy as if he were a speck of lint on her wool skirt.

"Mr. Anderson, I shall ask you to leave the hall immediately, and I'm afraid I cannot allow you to come again in the future. You will, of course, address yourself to your dormitory's master in the morning about this incident. Good night."

Roy looked lost, helpless as he mouthed, "I'm sorry" to Pam. He stuck his hands into his trouser pockets and walked down the steps of the main entrance to Dunder Hall.

Shirley was still standing there, probably feeling smug about tattling on her "loose" roommate. Pam had once overheard Shirley gossiping with her best friend Angela about Roy and her and how Pam was such a fast girl, how she had probably even gone all the way with her boyfriend.

Mrs. O'Brien turned to Shirley. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Miss Baldwin. Sleep well, dear." Shirley looked a little disappointed that she wouldn't witness Pam's chastisement, but she obeyed the matron and disappeared up the stairs.

Pam was looking down, wringing her hands, knowing that whatever Mrs. O'Brien was about to say wouldn't be pleasant.

"Miss Beesly, I've been concerned about your behavior this year. Last year it seemed that you and Mr. Anderson were merely casually dating, but lately I wonder if it hasn't grown too serious for your own good. I find myself wondering how far you've let Roy go; if you've made him stop after just kissing." Mrs. O'Brien paused. "Please look at me, Pam."

Pam could feel the heat rush to her cheeks, her neck, and her chest where one extra button of her blouse was unbuttoned. Had Roy unfastened it? Had she? And she knew she was flushing not because Roy had gone further, but because she wanted him to go further. She wanted to let him touch her everywhere, as she had earlier when Roy's hand stole a caress of her very clothed breast. "We've never done anything but kiss, Mrs. O'Brien."

"I'm very glad to hear that. Young men often get carried away with their girlfriends. I'm sure your mother has spoken to you about this, but it is incumbent on you to stop a boy if he tries to go too far. That sort of activity must be restricted to marriage, do you understand?" Mrs. O'Brien's voice sounded stern, but her green eyes were kind and maternal.

"I do, Mrs. O'Brien." Except Pam didn't understand.

"Very good, Miss Beesly. Well then, for this infraction I'd like you to compose an essay about the value of being a virtuous young lady. I'll then ask you to read it for your fellow residents at this week's afternoon tea. It needn't be very long, just five minutes or so." Mrs. O'Brien paused. "Are you in a composition class this semester, Pam?"

"Yes." Composition class. It conjured up the image of Professor Halpert, the very tall Professor Halpert. She always sat in the second row in the lecture hall, so that she could see his hands and commit them to memory to sketch later.

"I'm glad to hear that. I'd like you to have your professor look at it and advise you as to the clarity of your argument and its appropriateness as an oratorical composition." Mrs. O'Brien smiled then. "You may go to your room now, Miss Beesly. I'll look forward to your speech."

Pam's feet felt like lead as they ascended the stairs. How could she write about something she didn't believe in?

****

She kept her small desk light on until very late that night, writing her best effort of a speech about virtue. She gleaned a little satisfaction from the idea that the light bothered Shirley's sleep.

The next day she dressed carefully, choosing a full skirt, a prim white blouse buttoned all the way to her neck, and low-heeled sensible pumps. She needed to look ladylike, for some reason. She felt she had to look convincing even if she didn't believe in it.

Today Professor Halpert was discussing Aristotle's Poetics. "Aristotle gives us very clear instructions on diction," he said. "For instance," he quoted, "'What is needed, therefore, is a blend, so to speak, of these ingredients, since the unfamiliar element will save the diction from being commonplace and drab, while the colloquial element will ensure its clarity.'" He looked up from the book. "What do you think of this advice?"

A girl from the front row responded in her usual overeager but uninspired way. "I think Aristotle is correct here. He's asking writers to look for a happy medium, to be neither too flashy nor too dull."

Professor Halpert looked encouragingly at her. "Yes, you've summed it up well, Ruth." He smiled and pushed his too long hair from his forehead. Pam filed away the image of his hands and his mouth. "Does anyone else have an opinion? How do you see this applying to your compositions? Feel free to disagree with Aristotle."

The class chuckled a little, perhaps unsure about challenging a great philosopher. One boy in black rimmed glasses and a crew-cut spoke up. "I'm not sure his advice is universally true. What if the effect the writer seeks is to be outlandish?"

This time, the professor's smile struck Pam as more genuine. "Good. Though this is good advice, it's sometimes more effective, not to mention more interesting, if you disobey the rules. I'd like you all to keep that in mind for your next assignment. Enjoy your afternoon."

The words made Pam's breath catch as everyone around her stood up to gather their things. Disobey the rules; that's exactly what she wanted to do.

Professor Halpert stood at the oak desk, lingering so as to give his students an opportunity to ask him questions. He made a stack of his lecture notes and books, smiling genially as his students filed out of the hall.

Taking a steeling breath, Pam descended the stairs to where he stood. When she was next to him, she felt so small, not just because he was so much taller, but because he had this intellectual aura that overwhelmed her. Even from across the desk, she could smell him. Maybe it was his soap, but maybe also something else that was just...him, male. Pam had never been hit by Roy's scent like that.

His voice distracted her thoughts. "Yes, Miss Beesly, what can I do for you?"

"I... um, I have to ask for your help with something. My dorm matron has asked me to write a speech for our next afternoon tea but she also wants me to get a professor's advice about how it flows and I thought you might be willing to help." It came out in a rush, belying her nervousness.

He smiled at her, "Of course I can help. What is the speech about?"

"Virtue."

He screwed up his face a little. "Virtue?"

"Of... of young women."

He licked his lips and swallowed, and Pam could see his Adam's apple moving up and down in his throat. "All right. Why did your matron ask you to write it?"

Pam looked at her feet, unsure of how to phrase this without seeming like the fast girl Shirley said she was. She couldn't come up with a way that sounded less damning than what she said. "My boyfriend was in my room after curfew. I'm writing the speech because I'm supposed to show my conviction about the importance of being virtuous." Pam was fussing with the top button of her blouse, twisting it back and forth with her fingers.

"Ahh. When do you have to speak?"

"Friday." Pam could feel his eyes on her; they seemed to pin her to the spot where she stood. She couldn't make herself look at him.

"That's before our next class. Would you be free Thursday afternoon to see me in my office?"

Pam nodded. "After three o'clock is fine."

"Good. I'll see you Thursday at four o'clock, then, Miss Beesly."

Pam finally raised her head to look at him. Though she had heard amusement in his voice, looking at his face didn't confirm her thoughts that he was making fun of her. He just looked-she wasn't sure how to interpret it-interested. She dropped her hand from her throat and smiled at him. "Thank you." It came out as barely more than a whisper.

****

Jim walked slowly back to his office, unbelievably, inappropriately aroused by Pam Beesly. When her hand had dropped from her throat she had unintentionally undone her top button and he could see the patch of red in the hollow of her throat, evidence that when she blushed it was more than her face.

Would she blush like that all over? The image of Pam's white skin tinted red filled his mind; how she would look if she were under him, eager for his touch.

Swallowing, he took a deep breath of the late fall air. He wasn't sure how he'd make it through a private meeting with her about a speech on sexual morality, of all things. But he couldn't wait to read her speech. He wanted to see how she thought about sex, if this composition would follow her previous pattern.

He entered the building where the English department was located and nodded hello to a few of his colleagues. Fantasizing about a student was the least professional thing he could possibly do, and he felt like a sham of a professor as he saw others in his department. He shut the door to his office, shut out reminders that this was incredibly wrong. Somehow the improper nature of his thoughts made them all the more delicious.

He was a young professor, barely into his thirties, and he knew that some of his female students harbored crushes on him. He supposed it was inevitable; just a fact of life. But he had always looked on those infatuations with amusement, knowing that part of the attraction for the young women was his unattainable status. And yet, here he was, intensely desiring a student; something he had never done before. No, he was lying. Pam had always struck him as beautiful and intelligent, and he had more than once cursed the fact that she was a student. His student. But never had his thoughts been as sexual as they were right now. He felt just as ridiculous as the college freshmen who looked at him with schoolgirl love in their eyes.

He sat in the worn leather chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, as if that might erase the images floating through his brain. He spread out the typewritten pages of Pam's composition, smiling at the typographic errors that she had so carefully fixed. Pam's writing had always been extremely competent but somehow false, as if she were hiding her true personality and writing what she thought others wanted her to write. He wished he could coax a truer self out of her, but he knew that she would succeed just fine in college writing as she did.

This paper was no exception, except that maybe it was not as well-written as he knew she was capable of. "After my inappropriate actions last week, I have come to realize just how important my virtue is. It is something to be protected and saved for marriage. In doing what I did, I disrespected my roommate, Shirley, and myself. For this I am profoundly sorry. In the future I will strive to set a good example and in doing so contribute to the well-being of both myself and of this community."

Jim shook his head. There's no way she believes this, he thought. Every word is there only to appease her matron, and presumably, Shirley.

He couldn't wait until Pam came to visit.

*****
This time Roy decided to pick Pam up in his car. This way, they wouldn't bother either that dragon-lady matron or the stiff roommate Shirley.

He could tell Pam was smiling under her umbrella as she approached the car. They hadn't seen each other in days, not since the incident in her room, and she was probably just as excited as he.

"Hi, babe." He smiled at her.

"Hi!" She giggled a little.

She bounced into the car, sliding a bit on the leather upholstery, and closed her umbrella so that it could lie on the floor in the back seat.

She scooted over so that she was next to Roy, and he could wrap his arm around her as they drove. She kissed him on the cheek and rested her head on his shoulder. She was so perfect for him, and he wanted to love and protect her forever. They had been dating for several years now and he knew he would marry her one day. His family wasn't as sure as he. "Who are the Beeslys?" his mother had once asked. He guessed his mother didn't think Pam was sophisticated enough to be the next Mrs. Anderson, but he was sure. Pam was it.

"What do you want to do?" she asked.

"Drive-in?" He looked down at her with what he hoped was a meaningful look.

She nodded.

****

Once at the drive-in they didn't bother with the speaker. The movie was On the Waterfront, and even though Pam thought Eva Marie Saint was beautiful and wished she had pale blond, non-frizzy hair like hers, Pam only wanted to be close to Roy. They had already seen this movie, anyway.

His hand was playing with her hair, pulling out the pins that held it away from her face so that he could more fully run his hands through it. He looked down at her, and Pam felt adored.

She couldn't stop thinking about Professor Halpert, though. He had made her feel uneasy, like she was on edge, or something. She couldn't figure out why she would want to feel that way, but she did. It was like Professor Halpert could see right through the prim façade she had put extra care into that morning, and she both wanted to show it to him and hide at the same time.

But Roy was solid and sure. He never pushed her, he never seemed discontent. He was-safe.

Roy was kissing her, then, his lips not too demanding, his hand firm but not possessive on her head. He was kissing her the same way he'd kissed her for years. Pam opened her mouth a little, willing him to kiss her harder, and deeper. Predictably, he did, first touching his tongue to her lower lip, then kissing her fully.

Pam made a noise, something like a moan, and pressed herself to Roy. His left hand, as always, slid up from her waist, over her sweater, to her breast. He squeezed gently but didn't try to unbutton her blouse. She wanted him to.

So she pressed harder. She took her own hand and placed it over his, pressing his hand into her so that she could feel its heat. Letting go of his hand, she began unbuttoning her blouse, pulling it out of the waistband of her skirt when she reached her waist. She unbuttoned it all the way, and Roy pulled back.

Pam didn't say anything. She took Roy's hand once more and placed it on her chest with only her bra between them. Instead of looking happy about it, Roy looked confused. But he leaned in again and kissed her, his hand once again just gently fondling her breast, every now and then hitting the sensitive tip, as if by accident.

He didn't go any further. Pam pulled back after a while, lying back against the blue leather bench seat. Disappointed, she was still breathing hard. Roy was too. Pam's blouse was still opened over her chest, so she began to button it up again.

"Babe, I..." Roy didn't seem to know how to continue. "I love you, Pam, but I want to marry you someday. And maybe this doesn't make any sense but I don't want to really touch you until you're my wife. I do...I do want to, just not now." He wrapped his arm around her again, his thumb rubbing her shoulder, squeezing her to him.

Pam smiled, hoping Roy couldn't tell how disappointed she was. "It's okay. I understand. I love you, too, and I want to be your wife someday." Stretching her neck, she kissed him quickly on the cheek.

They didn't stay for the rest of the movie.

On the way back to the dorm, the only thing Pam could think was that Professor Halpert wouldn't hesitate like Roy had. She had no evidence, but she was sure of it.

****
Shirley had shot Pam another self-satisfied look when Pam entered their room that night. It was only later, when Pam was undressing for bed, that she noticed she had mis-buttoned her blouse. As Pam lay in the semi-darkness, with Shirley still typing away on her Underwood well after midnight, she couldn't think of anything but her meeting the next day with Professor Halpert.

Once again she dressed with care. A pink blouse this time, a grey skirt, a new pair of tan stockings, her best bra. She tried her best to tame her hair into a chignon at the base of her neck, but she knew it didn't look like Grace Kelly's did in the movies. It was armor, she realized, something to steel herself against the uneasiness she knew she would feel when she met with Professor Halpert.

After she knocked, his voice came surprisingly loudly through the old solid wood door. "Come in."

He smiled at her when she shut the door behind her and gestured at the chair opposite the large oak desk. "Have a seat."

He had laid her speech on the desk in front of her; she could see the copious amounts of red markings all over it, overshadowing the neat typewritten words. She hadn't thought it would be possible to be more nervous, but she was. She definitely was.

"I'm wondering what you think I'll say, Miss Beesly." He looked at her evenly, expectantly. He was wearing what all the professors wore; white shirt and a thin tie. His shirt cuffs were rolled up to his elbows, the tie slightly loosened around his neck. The requisite tweed jacket hung on the back of his chair. She couldn't identify his expression.

"There's a lot of red ink on it," she began. "I guess I think you'll say you don't like it."

"That is true, but maybe not for the reasons you think." He paused. "You write very well, though perhaps this paper is not your best effort. I didn't dislike any of the mechanical aspects of your composition."

Pam felt hopeful. "I'm glad to hear-"

But Professor Halpert hadn't finished. "I disliked the content, Miss Beesly. I don't believe you. You've written an incredibly false speech." Suddenly Pam felt exposed, as if he knew her secret. "I'd like you to stand up and deliver the speech as you would at your dorm tea."

"Now?"

He didn't say anything; rather, he looked at her expectantly.

She stood, tightening her shoulderblades to ensure good posture. "Today I'd like to address my fellow Dunder Hall residents on the subject of what is and is not proper behavior when interacting with the opposite sex." She paused, but his expression hadn't changed. "Recently I was caught in a situation that tested my... my resolve to behave virtuously."

"Why did you hesitate, Pam?" The fact that he called her by her first name shocked her a bit. He had never called her Pam.

"I just had to take a breath." She was lying but hoped he couldn't tell.

"Wrong. Keep going."

"My roommate found my boyfriend and me in my room after curfew last weekend. What we were doing was not appropriate behavior for a responsible college student."

"You never clarified in your paper, but what exactly were you and your boyfriend doing?"

It was crossing the line, she knew. He had no right to ask her, but she wanted to answer him, not to let him think the worst of her. "We were kissing on my bed."

"Is that all? I find it hard to believe just kissing would necessitate such a punishment." His words seemed stern, but he wasn't actually angry, she didn't think.

"We were... petting, too."

"I see." He stood up then and walked to her side of the desk. He took the paper from her. "I think your speech will satisfy your matron, but it doesn't convince me." He took a step closer, suffocating her, until all she could see, smell, and feel was this tall man.

***

Jim knew he was crossing the line. He had crossed it by starting this meeting as he had. What he was doing was wrong but he couldn't help it. "I don't believe you," he said again, and crossed his forearms over his chest.

"You mean you don't believe that's what Roy and I were doing?" She sounded unsure, intimidated, but definitely aroused.

"No, I believe that's what you and Roy were doing. What I don't believe," he said, and he noticed her eyes widen a little more, as if she was preparing herself for what he was about to say. "What I don't believe is that you think it's necessary to be a virtuous young woman. I don't sense that you put any stock in your own argument." He stepped even closer; he could smell what he thought was Joy perfume. And fear. "You don't, do you?"

She shook her head, and it was over. Jim couldn't take it. In his mind he had long since left any standards of propriety behind. He reached forward to take Pam's face in his hands, and he kissed her.

She was still, stunned, and for a moment he thought she would push him off and slap him, but then she was taking fistfuls of his shirt and pulling him to her, kissing him back hard, moaning into his mouth. The erection he had been fighting since she walked in won, and he was harder than he thought possible.

It was frantic. He immediately pulled Pam's blouse from her skirt and started unbuttoning it. He pulled it from her shoulders and in the same motion his hands went to her back to unfasten her white bra, not pulling it off, just unhooking it so that his hands could slide under it to touch her breasts. She was still pulling him to her, pressing herself into his hands.

His fingers went to her nipples and she moaned. "Please." With that one word, Jim knew this wasn't going to stop.

****

He pushed Pam toward his desk, until she sat on its edge and both it and he were pressing against her, and she felt surrounded. Her hands clutched at his hips and she pulled him to her, between her open legs.

He flirted with the hem of her skirt, and he pulled it up with her petticoat, garthering them up around her waist. His hand rested on her thigh, just over one of the garter clips that held her stockings up. He leaned down, pushing Pam down with him, so she could feel the desk cold against her back and him hard and hot against her front. She closed her eyes.

He leaned down to take her breast in his mouth, tasting her with his tongue. She wasn't sure whether she moaned or he did, but she could feel the vibration at her breast. His hands were slowly unhooking the four garter clips, then reaching up to pull her panties down and off her legs, leaving her shoes on.

She felt his hand slide up her leg, from her ankle, over the bunched up nylon, up her thigh, and it paused just as it was nearing that spot between her legs that had been aching since he kissed her. She felt his lips next to her ear. "Do you still want this, Pam?"

She nodded.

"Tell me."

"Yes. Yes, I still want this."

His hand touched her then, where no one had touched her, and she cried out and arched into the feeling. How could she not still want this when it was so good?

****

Jim was shocked at how wet she was. His hand cupped her, stroking her, but avoiding the spot he knew she would like the most. He wanted another chance to surprise her with a new sensation, certain from her reaction that she had never touched herself like this and that Roy hadn't, either.

When he slid a finger into her she cried out again, and he was thankful for the thick hardwood door and the fact that few faculty members would be around this late in the day.

He leaned forward again to kiss her, finally grazing her that spot with his thumb, and his mouth muffled hers, preventing her from crying out. Her hands went to his head and her fingers wove through his hair, holding him there. He pressed harder with his thumb, then again, and she tensed, her body straining beneath him and her hand pulling harder on his head. Her mouth broke free from his and she gasped for air, and he felt her tightening around his finger.

She was silent and motionless, her eyes still closed, and Jim felt like a hero for bringing her to orgasm even though he knew he was abusing his job title.

He helped her sit up, and she kissed him again. "Oh God, Professor Halpert." She didn't say anything else, and maybe the realization of what she had just done with her Professor was hitting her as hard as it hit him. Her face was beautifully flushed, though, just as he had imagined earlier in the week. He wanted more of her.

Holding her to him, he stroked her hair. His voice felt gravelly. "Call me Jim." He couldn't bear to have her call him "Professor," especially when he was contemplating taking her virginity on his desk. It was only at that moment that he might have stopped, but Pam was kissing him again, her hands at his belt, just resting on his belt buckle.

"Please, Jim."

****

She knew, now, why she didn't believe in being a virtuous young woman, at least not in the way Mrs. O'Brien or Shirley or Roy wanted her to be. Roy. She hadn't thought of him since walking into Jim's office. She didn't want to think of him, so she began to unfasten the belt buckle in front of her, to unhook his trousers. Jim's hands came to circle around her wrists, to still her hands.

"Pam, I can't stop again if you continue." His voice still sounded hoarse and she looked up to see him clenching his jaw.

She nodded and started again with his trousers, but he brushed her hands away. "Stand up," he said, and she did, her skirt falling back down to hide her legs. His hands on her shoulders urged her to turn away from him, so she was facing the desk and not him, and she was confused. His mouth came down on her neck, kissing her nape, her shoulder. She felt him behind her, hard and insistent at the small of her back, and she felt him push her over the desk. His hands went once more to the hem of her skirt, pulling it and her slip up, up, over her hips so that she felt the cool office air hit her skin. She felt somewhat ridiculous, with her garter clips hanging ineffectually around her hips and her clothes bunched up around her waist, but Jim didn't say anything.

The sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor shocked her; but she wanted this. She had learned about the mechanics of sex from a tent-mate at summer camp when she was fourteen; the girl had told her it would hurt horribly, and Pam had thought then that she guessed she could put up with it from her husband if she wanted to have a baby. But here, in this moment, she realized she wanted Jim in her, filling her, and it had nothing to do with procreation.

She felt his hands settle on her hips, his thumbs digging in hard. She knew she'd have bruises, but she wanted them; they would remind her of this later. She turned her head around, over her shoulder, and saw the intense concentration on Jim's face. "I..."

He let go of her hips immediately, and she realized he thought she would tell him to stop. As if she could.

"No, don't stop, I just... what about a baby?"

He looked relieved and spoke softly. "I'll, um; I'll make sure it doesn't happen." He took her hips in his hands again and leaned forward. She could feel him then, brushing against her, and she whimpered. He pushed, and she pushed back, and though she felt a snapping pain, it was nothing compared to the feeling of Jim pushing, sliding all the way into her.

He mumbled something, but she couldn't make it out. Then he was moving in the motion that the girl at camp had described, but it was wonderful. The friction was wonderful, and Pam cried out. Then it became frenzied again, like it had been when Jim first kissed her, and she couldn't help the noises she was making until Jim's hand came forward to clasp over her mouth.

She could hear him breathing, gasping for air, and they were moving faster. Pam felt like she was falling and she saw Jim's hand next to her face on the desk. She felt him leave her suddenly, and that hand clenched into a tight fist and pounded against the desk once, and she felt a warmth against the back of her thigh.

He fell forward on his forearms, caging her, and kissed her on the shoulder, and again Pam felt protected and adored, like she had with Roy but more so.

Jim stood up behind her and pulled her to his chest-he was still wearing his shirt, but his tie was all but untied around his neck. And she began to sob, great, wracking sobs that shook her entire body. He held her steady against him, his arms encircling her.

It was impossible, she realized then. She could never be with Jim, even if that afternoon had been the most affecting experience of her life.

****

He gave her an A that semester, with a note on her final paper that read: "Aside from being an excellent writer, Pam, you have an undeniable creative spirit. I encourage you to let that through in your writing. Best wishes, Jim Halpert."

She had never again spoken to Jim outside of class, and rarely in class. She had turned in her best work so that she would feel she deserved her grade. It was hard to look at him, laughing and joking with his students sometimes, at others explaining some concept of rhetoric brilliantly, and she was hurt unbelievably by the knowledge that she could never be with this wonderful man who had made her feel as he had.

When Roy asked her that spring to marry him, she said yes without hesitation. She was meant for Roy, and when he slid the engagement ring on her finger, looking at her with the love he felt for her written on his face, she knew she would at least have a loving marriage, if not a passionate one.

After her engagement Roy persuaded her that more college was unnecessary; why should she pay for an education that she wouldn't be able to use, he had argued.

She would withdraw from Mifflin College after that term in order to plan her wedding with her mother, and the following spring she would be Mrs. Roy Anderson, just as she had always expected.

****

Jim saw her for the final time when she was leaving the library with a young man who must have been Roy. Roy's arm was around her shoulders, holding her to him. Pam's hand reached up to grasp Roy's, and Jim saw the sunlight glimmer off the diamond on her ring finger.

He would have stopped them to say hello, but Pam shook her head almost imperceptibly, and he nodded. Taking a deep breath, he continued on to the library, not noticing when Pam turned to watch him walk away.