He ate quickly, as it is easy to do with fried food—opening a tartar sauce, dipping pieces of fish, lifting a few french fries, stabbing them into the ketchup, then biting them, and repeating. He ate his while it was hot, holding his fork for the coleslaw and, every now and then, tasting it. He watched Christina feeling closer to her and thought, maybe it was the pleasure of the food. He watched her open a small-side container of clear liquid, dip a french-fried potato into it, and then eat it.

He was, by nature and choice, a hotelier and destined to become the most famous hotelier in the world.

Topful of direst cruelty.

It was a thoroughly unmemorable performance.