When he touched her she sprang like a bow, hurling herself upon him, her mouth gaped and ugly like that of a dying fish as she writhed her loins against him.
He dragged his face free by main strength.
With her hips grinding against him, her mouth gaping in straining protrusion, bloodless, she began to speak.
“Let’s hurry.
Anywhere.
I’ve quit him.
I told him so.
It’s not my fault.
Is it my fault?
You dont need your hat and I dont either.
He came here to kill you but I said I gave him his chance.
It wasn’t my fault.
And now it’ll just be us.
Without him there watching.
Come on.
What’re you waiting for?”
She strained her mouth toward him, dragging his head down, making a whimpering moan.
He held his face free.
“I told him I was.
I said if you bring me here.
I gave you your chance I said.
And now he’s got them there to bump you off.
But you’re not afraid.
Are you?”
“Did you know that when you telephoned me?” he said.
“What?
He said I wasn’t to see you again.
He said he’d kill you.
But he had me followed when I telephoned.
I saw him. But you’re not afraid.
He’s not even a man, but you are.
You’re a man.
You’re a man.”
She began to grind against him, dragging at his head, murmuring to him in parrotlike underworld epithet, the saliva running pale over her bloodless lips.
“Are you afraid?”
“Of that dopey bastard?”
Lifting her bodily he turned so that he faced the door, and slipped his right hand free.
She did not seem to be aware that he had moved.
“Please.
Please.
Please.
Please.
Dont make me wait.
I’m burning up.”
“All right.
You go on back.
You wait till I give you the sign.
Will you go on back?”
“I cant wait.
You’ve got to.