This time around, there were little means by which George could defend himself. In the same sort of helplessness he felt when faced with someone who believed in god, he heard himself fudge up his personal definitions – licking his thumb blending le cerne. Maybe he no longer had lines in his mind. Maybe he only had color.
So it was left unsaid that he’d studied cartography and spoke three languages fluently though whose to say that this knowledge would have changed the way Mr. Caraway thought of him. Is it truly possible, in utter honesty, to represent himself unabashedly himself, exhibiting his self evidence tangibly to Mr. Caraway and expect it to remain true in his hands? In his hands, god, my little man will be subjected to to all sorts of foreign fingerprints. I’ll keep him, thanks.
As far as Mr. Caraway was concerned, George knew numbers and didn’t mind working weekends. Caraway also imagined that George must have missed out on several necessary life experiences. George agreed with this silently.