As we drove through the streets of Amsterdam, she repeatedly and profusely apologized.
“I am very sorry. There is no excuse. He is very sick,” she said.
I thought meeting you would help him, if he would see that his work has shaped real lives, but... I’m very sorry.
It is very, very embarrassing.” Neither Augustus nor I said anything.
I was in the backseat behind him. I snuck my hand between the side of the car and his seat, feeling for his hand, but I couldn’t find it.
Lidewij continued,I have continued this work because I believe he is a genius and because the pay is very good, but he has become a monster.”
“I guess he got pretty rich on that book,” I said after a while.
“Oh, no no, he is of the Van Houtens,” she said. “In the seventeenth century, his ancestor discovered how to mix cocoa into water.
Some Van Houtens moved to the United States long ago, and Peter is of those, but he moved to Holland after his novel.
He is an embarrassment to a great family.” The engine screamed.
Lidewij shifted and we shot up a canal bridge. “It is circumstance,” she said.
“Circumstance has made him so cruel. He is not an evil man.
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