Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap. He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. Then I threw a bucket of dirty water on his face and said, ‘Listen, asshole, let’s get one thing straight.
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