Dillon sneered. “Aw, can that,” he said. “Suckers like you go on givin’ a hand till they’re buried.”
While he was speaking Dillon moved round the store putting some tinned food together. He shoved them roughly into a large paper carrier. “We’re makin’ a trip,” he said. “I’d hate to steal this stuff from you… see, I’ll pay you for it.” He tossed three dollars on to the counter.
Abe said nothing. He just wanted Dillon to go away. He kept thinking how he was to tell Rosey. She’d never forgive herself.
Dillon picked up the carrier and walked over to the door. “Maybe, when I get the breaks, I’ll remember you, Goldberg… then maybe I won’t… you see.”
He walked out into the night, tossed the carrier into the car and climbed in. He gave the key to Gurney. “State line, fast,” he said.
Gurney started the engine and engaged the gears. They pulled out of Plattsville as the street clock struck two, and headed for the border.
PART TWO
Myra swung her legs off the bed and sat up. The sun came through the open window, burning her feet. The cheap clock on the mantleboard indicated 8.10. She sat there, sniffing the crisp air, her firm white body naked. She fished about with her feet, hunting for her shoes. Finally, with a little gasp of annoyance, she went on hands and knees and dug them out from under the bed.
She knelt there staring at the shoes. “By heck,” she said, “I’m getting a regular bum.” The shoes were just about handing in their checks. Two large cracks gaped like little mouths at her from the top, and the soles were as good as a sieve.
She sat back on her heels, scratching her thigh, thinking. It wasn’t from choice she was naked in bed. She just hadn’t anything to wear.