‘Now then, Gerald, out with it. The Vorsack house bore the stamp of Diane in every visible spot. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. His hands were exploring her once again in the car. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. His hair is oddly streaked with gray —I might say a dishonourable gray. "O, Lord!" ejaculated Wood. Madame shrugged.
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