“But that doesn’t make sense. That’s stupid.”
“All right, it’s stupid. But that’s the way it is. So just drive toward the river.”
The car moved faster. It came onto Wharf Street and he told her to turn north. They went north for several blocks and presently he told her to park up ahead. He pointed to a wide gap between the piers. It was a grassy slope, slanting down to the water’s edge.
It was mostly weeds and moss, not much more than a mud flat, and during the day it was nothing to see. But under the moon it was serene and pastoral, the tall weeds somehow stately and graceful, like ferns.
“Very pretty,” she murmured. “It’s nice here.”
“Well, it’s quiet, anyway. And there’s a breeze.”
For some moments they didn’t say anything. He wondered why he’d directed her to this place. It occurred to him that he used to come here when he was a kid, coming here alone to feel the quiet and get the river breeze. Or maybe just to get away from the shacks and the tenements.
He heard her saying, “It’s so different here. Like a little island, away from everything.” Then he looked at her. The moonlight poured onto her golden hair and put lights in her eyes. Her face was entrancing. He could taste the nectar of her nearness.
He told himself he wanted her, he had to have her. The need was so intense that he wondered what kept him from taking her into his arms. Then all at once he knew what it was. It was something deeper than hunger of the flesh. He wanted to reach her heart, her spirit. And his brain seethed with bitterness as he thought, That ain’t what she wants. All she’s out for is a cheap thrill.
The bitterness showed in his eyes. He spoke thickly. “Start the car. Let’s get away from here.”