The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. " The Wastrel laughed. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. "Begone! or I fire!" he cried. ” “It is odd that this man at the hospital should call himself Meysey Hill,” she remarked. She turned quickly. She walked over to them still carrying the trousers in her hands, and stooped to examine them. It was just a shabby, stupid, furtive business that began between us. She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing. “Touch a hair on his head and you will insure that I will never make love to you again. 133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls. Our mutual safety requires it.
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