He was clever, that was the hell of it, clever and witty and peculiarly stupid in that way that I could never once resist, witness the Doctor. Clever and witty and peculiarly stupid, and gorgeous in this foppish sort of way, disdainful of Americans— well, I always liked a challenge, even if I only sound American— and damn, but he was charming. No wonder his wife stuck by him. No wonder I stuck with him as long as I could.
But I knew the history. No one can change history.
The hell of it is, sometimes I still miss him.