Perhaps if I had watched over her more closely, things would have been different. She was rash and ignorant, absolutely inexperienced. “Your teeth are chattering! I’ll make you some hot chocolate!” Cathy cried. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. Ah, these English! They travelled all over, up and down the world, not to acquire information but rather to leave the impress of their superiority as a race. Not all of us, but some of us. White Sears special-order orthopedic shoes, polyester pants, and cotton print blouses were her usual weekend attire. But Gerald kept to a casual note. He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale.
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