Her father was holding her waist, smiling. . And Pottiswick, of course. She crept into the living room and turned off the set, adjusting Cathy’s blanket which had fallen to the carpeted floor. He watched her, savoring her curious attention. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. She watched the captain tuck the pistol back in his pocket, and perch on the edge of the big desk.
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