“Quite different. Burn your palette and your easel. ” “I believe you,” she murmured. \"Uh-oh. “Well, I have said what I had to say, stumblingly and badly, and baldly. " "And what is a geisha girl?" Not to have heard of the geisha! It was as if she had asked: "What is Paris?" What manner of tourist was this who had heard neither of the geisha of Japan nor of the sing-song girl of China? Before he could marshal the necessary phrases to explain, Ruth herself indicated her thought. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. Your father…. He hated horizons.
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