“It doesn’t have anything to do with what happened at the Cactus Patch — and it’s important.”
She hesitated a moment as though turning something over in her mind, then slid the guard chain back out of its catch.
She studied me curiously as I walked on in.
“Don’t pay any attention to the face,” I said. “It’ll come back into shape after a while.”
“Did he hit you hard?”
“I guess it was hard. I felt like a flock of tenpins when a bowler makes a strike. I’ve often heard them explode all over the alley, and now I know just how they must feel.”
She laughed, said, “Come on in here and sit down.”
I followed her into a little living-room. She indicated a chair. I sat down.
“Weren’t you sitting here?” I asked.
“No. I was sitting over here.”