I could see she wasn't troubling with the question whether I was speaking the truth.
She was sizing me up as a man.

I cannot describe that calm appraising look.

There was no sex in it, nothing even of that implicit sympathy with which one human being explores the existence of another.

I was a chattel, a thing infinitely removed from intimacy.

Even so I have myself looked at a horse which I thought of buying, scanning his shoulders and hocks and paces.