The doorway darkened again as Harkway came in, followed by Nick. Nick gestured toward the rear of the shop, and Harkway advanced, smiling. His lower lip was stained by a purple substance with a glossy surface.
Cudyk greeted him and offered him a chair. "It was good of you to come over," he said. "I hope I didn't interrupt your work."
Harkway grinned stiffly. "No. I was just finishing lunch when your boy found me. I have nothing more to do until this evening."
Cudyk looked at him. "You got to the hospital after all, I see."
"Yes. Dr. Moskowitz fixed me up nicely."
Cudyk had been asking himself why the M.P.L. man looked so cheerful. Now he thought he understood.
"And Miss Burgess?" he asked.
"Yes," said Harkway, looking embarrassed. He paused. "She's—an exquisite person, Mr. Cudyk."
Cudyk clasped his square hands together, elbows on the arms of his chair. He said, "Forgive me, I'm going to be personal. Am I right in saying that you now feel more than casually interested in Miss Burgess?"
He added, "Please. I have a reason for asking."