As she began to curse him, he gave her another slap that shot her forward to the head of the stairs.
She bolted down them like a scalded cat.
Gillis shut the door and turned the key.
The room stank of cheap perfume and, cursing, he threw open another window and began to fan the air with a newspaper until the rumpled bed caught his eye and he dropped the paper and ran over to straighten the sheets and pillows.
He was emptying an ash-tray full of cigarette butts stained with lipstick when a knock came on the door.
He took a quick look at himself in the mirror. His pyjamas were grubby and most of the buttons on the jacket were missing. There were lipstick smears on his chest and neck. He bolted into the bathroom and hurriedly sponged them off, then slipped into a faded dressing-gown before re-entering the bedroom.
The knock was repeated. He unlocked the door and opened it.
‘Why, Eve!’ he said, staring at her. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’
‘I had to see you,’ she said. ‘Can I come in?’
‘I suppose so,’ he said reluctantly. ‘It’s a hell of a time to cal . I was asleep.’ He stood aside to let her in. ‘Sorry about the stink in here. I upset a bot le of perfume. As a matter of fact I’d bought it for you. It smells pretty horrible, doesn’t it, and the blasted girl swore it was ful of al ure.’