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She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Chuck had did himself in because Chuck was a flaming homosexual. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room. The office is a sight—not one sheet of paper on another; bills and receipts everywhere. The first Step towards the Ladder. “So long as I am your father, so long as your life is entrusted to my care, I feel bound by every obligation to use my authority to check this odd disposition of yours toward extravagant enterprises. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily.
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