Fortner called to his daughter from the living room. They hadn't been home more than a half hour, and the doorbell was jangling already. The man had to admit that he, too, would welcome a little jungle solitude for a change. The man stood back and let the exuberant girl and the young man accompanying her come into the room. He stared at the young man a moment, waiting to be introduced. Fortner," Cathy said, remembering her manners at last, "this is Harold Rhymer.
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She was used to working through that veil of hair. But she was going to have to figure out something to do with it now. African weather was notoriously humid, especially where she was going. The intense heat and humidity wouldn't go too well with long, damp hair. There was jungle rot to think about.