Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. He looked just as Julian had the night she had first met him outside the Joliet Laundromat. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. . . She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. This is the one movement that brings women of different classes together for a common purpose. ’ ‘Ah, but I have a special reason for doing so this time. “Michelle, the only reason I ever started to behave or dress differently was to please that boy. And if I don’t, I go mad.
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