"If she feels like that," Avalon said, with that paralysing smiling directness which was all her own, "why didn't she come here herself?"
"She's too tight now. You know how she gets. But I know she's sorry."
"Well, when she sobers up, she can call me. She knows where I live."
"I know how you feel, darling. I only stopped in because she begged me to... I'll run along now."
Avalon stood up again.
"Okay," she said, with friendly exhaustion. "I've taken a lot from Cookie before, but tonight was just too much — that's all. Why don't you beat some sense into her one of these times when she's receptive?"
"You know how she is," Kay Natello said, in that metallic monotone. "I'm sorry."
She hitched her wrap up once again around her scrawny shoulders, and her hollow eyes took a last deliberate drag at the Saint.
"Goodnight, Mr. Templar," she said. "It was nice meeting you."
"It was nice meeting you," Simon replied, with the utmost politeness.