I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship. Nothing else matters. You have betrayed me. I’ve no name for it yet. Saturday mornings at the Beck house were routine, coffee, newspaper, bagels, and Looney Toons in no particular order. Both had dropped the rather elaborate politeness of the dining-room, and in their faces an impartial observer would have discovered little lines of obstinate wilfulness in common; a certain hardness—sharp, indeed, in the father and softly rounded in the daughter—but hardness nevertheless, that made every compromise a bargain and every charity a discount. She disengaged her hands and stood up.
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