The few whites he had ever known generally offered to pet him when they really wanted to kick him. You don’t have to live forever to understand that. . . There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. Jack's mouth was coarse and large; Darrell's small and exquisitely carved, with the short, proud upper lip, which belongs to the highest order of beauty. ‘That is what she wants, is it?’ ‘Do you blame her?’ he said stiffly.
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