That Christmastime night, all Mr. Lockley could manage to direct to Elaine was a minimally cordial bow—as if he were saying the unutterable, Good evening, knocked-up faculty daughter. How are you managing now, you smelly little slut?
John Irving
That Christmastime night, all Mr. Lockley could manage to direct to Elaine was a minimally cordial bow—as if he were saying the unutterable, Good evening, knocked-up faculty daughter. How are you managing now, you smelly little slut?