Myra said in a small voice, “You’re scaring me. Open the door, I tell you, I want to go to bed.”
Butch caught her this time. Gurney didn’t think it possible for him to move so quickly. His great hand caught her arm as she fled from him. He jerked her to him. His hot breath fanned her face.
She said, “Let me go!… Let me go!… Let me go!” Her voice went up a tone, mounting to a scream.
Gurney swung himself to the floor and stood up. Swiftly, Butch jerked his head round. “What’s that?” he said harshly. He shook Myra. “What was that? There’s someone else here…. Who is it?”
“You’re crazy,” she gasped. “There’s no one here.”
His hand, swinging down, slapped her. Then he stiffened. Holding both her wrists in a crushing grip, he touched her quivering body.
Gurney was creeping inch by inch towards the open window. Myra, seeing him, began to scream, covering any sound that he made.,
Butch reached up; his hand, closing on her throat, nipped her screams short. Gurney swung himself forward, falling head first out of the window, his feet jerking the curtains from the rod. Picking himself up, he began to run drunkenly down the road, swaying from side to side.
Butch said, “So that’s it, is it, you little whore?”
Myra felt her knees buckle. If Butch weren’t holding her she would have slipped to the floor.