’ ‘Yes, do. \"Would you like some orange juice?\" Larry had already been working outside for an hour, Mike at his side, dragging grass clippings to the compost pile. His mom was a famous model. The back of the house had been the Alps for climbing, and the shrubs in front of it a Terai. Sometimes he was obviously irritable and uncomfortable and unfortunate in his efforts to seem at ease. She glanced into his face. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us. You have been to me like a mother, not only a wetnurse. Old saltwater was right. His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. Her hair was the one part of her that did not exude the air of wealth.
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