CHAPTER XIII
Doda now. Her turn. The less said the better. But one must say something. Say—Doda, then, baby girl, tiny daughter. That’ll do to start it.
Say—look, there she is! She’s fourteen. Look, there she is! She’s sixteen. Look, there she is! She’s eighteen. That’ll help out a bit.
Say—Dances. Untidiness. Powder on her nose. No Jonah in her head. That’ll do to fill in.
Say—look, there she is! She’s dead. That’ll finish her.
The less said, the better.
Strike two!