She could accord her father with one grace: he was not in any manner a hypocrite. "Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard. Hold the chopper away from you, like this. "But I'm a blackguard, too, Ruth. He looked just as Julian had the night she had first met him outside the Joliet Laundromat. She stood face to face with him, and his voice cut across her speech and made her stop abruptly. But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb.
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