“What do you think?” I was so shocked, I didn’t know what to think or what to say. He stood there quietly. He wasn’t trying to be comic or coquettish. He was just waiting for my answer. His big round head gleamed like polished mahogany. He was wearing the worn, gray cotton work outfit of a monk, which did not match the style of the tiara at all, and so it sat there, clamped on his head, glittering and casting irritable flecks of light on his skin. It should have been funny, but it wasn’t. The gaudy, ornate filigree that I’d admired so much in the department store looked tacky on his head, and
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