"Can I help you, Jack?" asked Thames, taking up a plane. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. Rage flooded her at his intent, but she controlled it. . Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. One day I can be a Gothic chick, and the next day I’ll be Hitler Youth. I struck him across the mouth, and across the eyes. So I am already no longer the girl you knew at Morningside Park.
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