Lee, I’m not good enough for him.”
“Now, what do you mean by that?”
“I’m not being funny. He doesn’t think about me. He’s made someone up, and it’s like he put my skin on her. I’m not like that—not like the made-up one.”
“What’s she like?”
“Pure!” said Abra. “Just absolutely pure. Nothing but pure—never a bad thing. I’m not like that.”
“Nobody is,” said Lee.
“He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t even want to know me. He wants that—white—ghost.

Autor: John Steinbeck