Csongor felt as if he should be abjectly apologizing in the name of every white male who had ever lived, but he didn’t know quite where to begin. He still had not quite gotten his mind around the nature of this place and what went on here—particularly the middle-aged ladies, who seemed to be acting in approximately the same role as pimps, but who didn’t seem like professionals. They seemed almost like chaperones. But singularly ineffectual ones.