White AND Blonde? Exercise SOME Control Man!

My repugnance was indistinguishable from a kind of fever: It was nausea and revulsion; like any illness, it became itself the focus of intense interest to me, so that finally my questions were about myself and not – perhaps I should be embarrassed to admit – about Mr. Simpson or even about his victims, lying (in my forever-stained imagination) in a sludgy river of blood.

May I say, without incurring wrath, that I didn’t like her face? Continue reading White AND Blonde? Exercise SOME Control Man!