He was sitting across the table from me.
I declined.

His face grew stern, and he insistently proffered the wine.
And then terror descended upon me--a terror which I must explain.
My mother had theories.

First, she steadfastly maintained that brunettes and all the tribe of dark-eyed humans were deceitful.

Needless to say, my mother was a blonde.

Next, she was convinced that the dark-eyed Latin races were profoundly sensitive, profoundly treacherous, and profoundly murderous.