Even with his mind closed Parr could catch ripples of Oholo thought: amusement, sympathy, appreciation. For a moment he was afraid that he had been mistaken somehow, for again there was the elusiveness, an unreality he could not account for in terms of the situation.
Parr narrowed the gap between himself and his prey.
And they turned a corner. Parr crossed the street, drew still closer, in time to hear the girl say, laughing, "... slumming once before I go back."
The crowd thickened and Parr found himself sidestepping passers-by. He was almost near enough, and his hand was moist on the focus gun.
The couple turned into a cellar night club. Parr swore to himself. Taking a nervous breath, he descended the steps. He nodded to the bouncer-doorman who was leaning idly against the wall.
He stepped into the night club. He saw the man help the girl to a table.
Parr brought out his hand. His eyes were suddenly hot and beady with excitement.
On the far side of the room he saw the black lettered sign, "MEN." He would, in crossing to it, pass directly by the Oholo's table.
As he began to move forward a woman stumbled unsteadily against him, knocking him off balance.
"Whynacha watch where ye're goin', ya ...," she began shrilly, but, with his left hand, he brushed her out of his way. She took a half step backwards, undecided.