Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. Katy’s face was vapid and undistinguishable from a crowd, but pretty in an abstract sense, like the face of a baby doll. "You are all right?"—anxiously. “Men’s waists are neither here nor there; A man scores always, everywhere.
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