"It! Yes, like I said. Somebody has to feel it inside of him, just like
I do, before he can understand. Can't you feel it? Please! Listen."
"Aw, that's an old jew's-harp. I'll buy you one. How's that?"
"All right, I guess," she said, starting off suddenly toward the bathhouse.
He was relieved that she had thrown off the silence.
"Ain't mad any more, are you, Marylin?"
"No, Getaway—not mad."
"Mustn't get fussy that way with me, Marylin. It scares me off. I've had something to show you all day, but you keep scaring me off."
"What is it?" she said, tiptoe.
His mouth drew up to an oblique. "You know."
"No, I don't."