"Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. A white man takes his life in his hands. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. Officers were these. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true.
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