At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. “But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to. Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. ‘Hates doing the pretty. “We settled long ago—we’re hard stuff.
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