Lanier was an unpredictable boy with an inhuman curiosity. “Well, how many Pomeranians would it take to lick a lion, father?” was typical of the questions with which he harassed Dick. Topsy was easier. She was nine and very fair and exquisitely made like Nicole, and in the past Dick had worried about that. Lately she had become as robust as any American child. He was satisfied with them both, but conveyed the fact to them only in a tacit way. They were not let off breaches of good conduct – “Either one learns politeness at home,” Dick said, “or the world teaches it to you with a whip and you may get hurt  in the process. What do I care whether Topsy ‘adores’ me or not? I’m not bringing her up to be my wife.”