She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. She was beautiful once, Lucia. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. “You have a boyfriend! That’s fine by me, it’s your business, but you’d better stop sneaking around because Sheila’s got eyes in the back of her head!” He heard Sheila utter a loud percussive blast of a snore from the master bedroom. “I had thought to go on to Kandersteg,” said Capes, “but this is a pleasant place.
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