"Which explains the haze. If you saw the bottles of lotion, you'd never bare your heart to me. If, on the other hand, you saw merely a closed suitcase, it would not intrigue you so much as an opened suitcase, its contents obscured by haze. Correct?"
Mary-Jean nodded as the peddler selected with his plump hand a small white jar from the second row. He placed it in Mary-Jean's hand and she felt a strange tingling as contact was made. Her fingers instinctively clutched the jar.
"One application," the peddler said, closing his suitcase. "One only: the entire contents of the jar, please."
"But where—how—?"
"Just apply the balm anyplace on your person. Then you may shower. Then—but then you will see."
"Yes, but—but isn't there going to be anything else. I mean, surely you must be selling something."
The peddler smiled, showing the broken yellow teeth again. "Dear lady, I have already sold it. May I wish you all the best of luck." He walked with the enormous suitcase to the front door. He opened the door and paused on the threshold. "There is one thing," he said.
So here it comes at last, Mary-Jean thought.
"I shall return in twenty-four hours to see what your decision is."
"My decision?"