He looked just like John Wayne in a cowboy movie, his eyes narrow and squinting, except his hair was long, unruly, and jet black. " And then his interest would cease. “It is your sister and her husband,” he said. And son of a pig,’ she grunted, baring her teeth. He had assumed that her leaving home was the point at issue, that everything turned on that, and that the sole alternative was obedience, and she had fallen in with that assumption until rebellion seemed a sacred principle. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. With delicate touch he rescued all that was possible of them, and made a careful little parcel. She had mentioned the address where she and her sister had lived. It had been a big event for teens across town. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders. "Far from, it, Sir. This is not what I want.
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