Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. She was crushed with a sense of her own terrible impotency. But there was something in his face at once stupid and invincible that told her he would go on forcing himself upon her, that he would esteem speech with her a great point gained. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. 1. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel.
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