The road banked and curved like an amusement-park track; what must it be like in the winter!—but of course that didn’t matter: no time was winter here. Expensive, shiny cars gunned their engines behind her, and blew their horns to make her go faster; so recklessly she went faster, spinning past castles and palms, fountains, banks of roses, and gateposts with plaster lions or urns. It was her afternoon to work for Dr. Einsam, but instead she was going to Hollywood to answer Glory Green’s fan mail. It was Iz’s idea, of course. Katherine did not know exactly what it meant, or what she thought of it. Was she being sent as a spy, or an emissary? Or was she merely bearing coals of fire, as Iz had suggested when he said: “She needs a secretary; I’ve got a secretary. So, I can help her out; it’s as simple as that.” When Katherine began to inquire further, he interrupted her, saying that she didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to: it made absolutely no difference to him. Meaning, for she knew his language by now, that it made some absolute difference to him.
