” She surveyed this sentence for some time before going on. Wasn’t easy, I can tell you. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. The odds were astounding and yet he had it bad. He looked just like John Wayne in a cowboy movie, his eyes narrow and squinting, except his hair was long, unruly, and jet black. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible. She brought the cups of cocoa back to the bedroom.
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