She turned back into the hall. Full as she was of him, it felt good to shower her kill out of her hair. Ann Veronica stared at his foolish, propitiatory smile, his hungry gaze, through one moment of amazement, then stepped aside and went on her way with a quickened step. She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity. He was profoundly stirred. And yet to Spurlock it was only the title of a story he would some day write. They were a young man and an old one, and both appeared deeply affected. If you want me, you know where to find me.
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