I met her sister, Anita, once. She's got mean eyes and she's really smart. Talking to her I always felt like I was drowning. Everything she said seemed to glide over my head like a series of graceful inside jokes, even though her words were plain enough.
Betty, too, was like that, but in a somehow more malignant way. Her sentences were sparse, simple, and infrequent, but every word would bite. Inexplicably. It occurred to me once that she had one of those Voodoo dolls of my likeness hidden in her cheek and would stab pins into it with her tongue as she spoke.