Do you think he’ll try to kill me?” “Did you give him any indication that you were a pacifist or an intellectual, or that you liked abstract art?” “Hmmmm, I don’t think so,” but his hmmmm had the quality of a yummy sound, like he found the act of thinking itself to be delicious. This was a bad sign. If he had let a hmmmm slip in front of my father, that might have been enough to do it. We decided we had better leave that night, just to be sure.
