He thought in dismay of his clothes, his books, his personal belongings. "I’ll have to go hack,” he said.
She shrugged. “Go if you want your throat cut, but you’d better wait until the morning.”
“We’ve got to go somewhere,” he said helplessly. “Look at the mess we’re in. If the police spot us, they may ask questions.”
She brooded into the darkness. The red glow of her cigarette bobbed up and down.
“Little Ernie,” she said, at last. “He’ll put us up.”
Immediately George became uneasy. “He knows too much,” he said. “I don’t think we should go to him.”
“You don’t know anything about him,” Cora returned shortly. “Ernie’s all right. He’ll help us.” She began to move down the road. “He’s had his eye on me for some time.”
George fell into step beside her. “I don’t like him,” he growled. “He’d better keep his hands off you.”
Cora didn’t say anything.
They walked on in silence until they reached a bus stop. While they waited, George watched her out of the corners of his eyes. Her grey-white face was hard and expressionless, but she held her head high, and she moved with a jaunty swagger.