"Nope," he said to Gabby. "She's not here. We'll go out the side door."
They threaded their way between tables and went out the side door. Lennox took a deep breath of the fresh air and looked around for a cab. A small man in a derby, pea-jacket and white duck trousers came around the corner. He spoke to them in a bright voice. "Hi, Joe. H'ar ya? Hi, Sally?" He continued down the street, addressing empty doorways in friendly tones.
"Ah," Gabby said compassionately. "He's lonesome, poor soul. He wants friends. Do you think he's afraid of people, Jordan?" She came around a corner abruptly. "As afraid as you are of Aimee Driscoll?"
"W-What?"
"Listen to me." Gabby backed him against the wall and pointed a finger at him. "I know she's in there. At the table behind the phone booth. You should have seen your face when you saw her. Are you afraid to speak to her?"
"Yes. I'm ashamed. Revolted."
"Why?"
"Gabby, don't be naive. Suppose you picked up a strange man and—Would you want to see him again?"
"I did," Gabby said. "Last Sunday night."
"No. No, darling. It's different with us. We.... Did you see her? What she looks like? I could kill her."