Myra and Whisky were making a great fuss over each other, and I had to tell Whisky that when I wanted his tongue over my face I’d let him know.
“It’s certainly nice to see you again,” Whisky said, panting with excitement. “I’d given you both up for lost.”
“We’d given ourselves up for lost,” I said, taking Myra’s hand. “It’s a good thing you learned to float, sugar.”
“You know, I just can’t help it,” Myra said apologetically. “But I must get some undies. I just haven’t any confidence without them.”
“What have you done with them?” Whisky asked, pricking up his ears.
“Don’t tell him,” I pleaded. “It’ll take too long. Never mind about your undies. The cops are looking for you. They’ve only to hear I’ve been seen with a blonde and a dog and they’ll come after us like bats out of hell.”
“Very well,” Myra said, settling back. “But you’ve no idea how it preys on my mind.”
“The point to concentrate on is where do we go from here?” I said.
“That, I think, is for you to decide,” Myra said, slipping her hand into mine. “I’ll go where you say.”
“I’ve got to put you in some place where the cops won’t find you. Then I’ve got to get hold of Arym.”