“I don’t understand how you two live. Does Sydney keep you?”
“You’re curious, aren’t you?”
George nodded. “I suppose I am. Well, perhaps I shouldn’t ask.”
“We get along. We’ve been getting along like this for a hell of a time… getting nowhere.”
George stood over her. “You can’t go on like this, Cora,” he said. “I can’t go on the way I’m going on now much longer. Couldn’t we get together? You and me might do well if we stuck together.”
“Think so?” she said, looking out of the window. “Well, there’re things to do first. I’ve got other things on my mind… important things,” and her hands closed into tight little fists.
She’s thinking about tonight, George decided uneasily. In his burst of activity he had forgotten about Crispin and the two Greeks. Instantly his old fears returned.
“I say, Cora,” he said, moving over to the fireplace, “shouldn’t we leave had alone? I mean there might be more trouble.” He glanced in the mirror at the plaster strips on his face. “They’re a pretty rough crowd.”
“If you expect us to stick together,” Cora said slowly, “you’ll have to show a little more guts. I don’t like men without spine.” She stood up and, turning her back, she pulled her dressing-gown aside. “Take a look, George.”
He had one momentary glimpse of the red and black marks on her white flesh before she jerked the dressing- gown into place: a sight that sickened him, angered him and embarrassed him.