“Get you a cold one?” “No thanks. John eased off. Still, he was puzzled because McClintock had not spoken. . All houses of means had not only a maid but usually a whole staff of servants. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. The booming voice and the energetic movements spoke plainly of hurry. Now there is none. Shari was to be protected, to be dissuaded from driving in cars with older boys at night, to be steered away from dope and beer and certain friends who had no plans to work or to go to college. And all to satisfy a succession of rapacious lightskirts. You could walk the city streets and with every blink you could take in a new sight of beauty so great that your heart would weep for it.
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