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With a brush of camel's hair the slave took a little black paste which she placed on the long finely curved lashes in order that the eyes should appear more blue. Two decided strokes of a crayon lengthened them, softened them; a bluish powder leadened the lids; two spots of bright vermilion accentuated the corners of the tears. Then, to fix the tints, the face must be covered with ointment. With a soft feather dipped in white pigment, Djala drew white streaks along the arms and on the neck; with a little brush full of carmine she ensanguined the mouth; her fingers spread over the cheeks a light cloud of red powder. Then with a pad of tinted leather she colored the elbows faintly and revived the luster of the ten nails. The toilette was finished. Then Chrysis began to smile, and said to the Hindu, "Sing to me." She sat with arched back in her marble armchair. Her pins were like golden rays behind her face. Her hands, resting upon her breast, spaced between the shoulders the red. I got dressed and busted out of there. What with Perkins, Osceola, and my dad, I'm a dead man." You're telling me the truth?" Larry said."Swear to God, Larry, I didn't rape that girl. But that doesn't matter. If the sheriff thinks I raped her, somebody must have seen me naked on top of her while I was unconscious. I'll be convicted of the crime anyway. I'll end up in prison—if my dad doesn't kill me first." Uh-uh, the sheriff told me they took a rape kit at the hospital. If you didn't rape her, your semen, your DNA won't show up. The best thing for you to do, Cal, is turn yourself in," Larry said."Can't do that, Larry. I can't put my mother through something like that, and my dad would tear into me. You know how he is. He'd beat me to a bloody pulp."Ah, Larry thought, that's why Cal looked me up this morning. He fears a beating from his father. He's come to me for a solution, a way to avoid his father's wrath."You can't avoid this problem, Cal. It isn't going away. This town isn't.
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