a famous Torontonian manservant

I'll never forget the day I finished Margaret Mitchell" 's The Hand Towel's Tale. I had spent the entire Fourth of July weekend riveted. Sometime between the potato salad and the fireworks I reached the haunting, perfect conclusion. I was stunned. I had never been so profoundly disturbed and enthralled by a book before. Of course, I was thirteen years old, now, don’t get me wrong - all women make me laugh my ass off, and usually so much more because of the part they play. And there are obviously other persona's for women to have. But at thirteen Margaret was a large woman, tall and well formed, her complexion was so white as lilly white as those poetess type she loves so much ...