‘I am expecting a huge rat to emerge any second. When they reached the door, he kissed her 246 again. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. It was dangerous for her to dare approaching him and she knew the tremendous risk she was taking, but a part of her demanded that he be found. To-morrow, we'll go to the Fleet and get spliced.
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