Duffy thought she had an iron nerve. “Nice to see you again,” he said.
Annabel English looked at him. Then she put a hand quickly on his arm. “But your face,” she said, “what has happened?”
Duffy touched his face with his finger-tips, then smiled; it was a very bleak smile. “I told you,” he said, “some toughs pushed me around.”
“It’s horrible.” She came closer to him. “They must have hurt you so.”
Duffy shrugged. “Forget it,” he said; “what brings you up here?”
She turned from him and wandered away across the room to the window. It was a shabby room. Duffy was quite surprised. The address was good enough, but Cattley had let the place run to seed. The furniture was old and battered and the walls needed attention. There was dust everywhere.
Duffy stood watching her. “What brings you up here?” he repeated.
When she reached the window she turned, so that the light was behind her. “I wanted to look round,” she said; “why are you here?”
He lit a cigarette. “You know, baby,” he said, moving further into the room and sitting on the corner of the table. “I don’t think we’re going to get along so well together.”
“Oh, but yes.”