‘The one, you know, the one I’ve been looking for. His name is—‘ He leapt to his feet. ‘His name’s—‘
He brought his fist into his palm, a murderous blow. ‘I forgot,’ he whispered.
He put his stinging hand to the short hair at the back of his head, screwed up his eyes in concentration. Then he relaxed. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I’ll find out, now.’
‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘Go on, Hip. Sit down and listen to me.’
Reluctantly he did; resentfully he looked at her. His head was full of almost-understood pictures and phrases. He thought, Can ’ t she let me alone? Can ’ t she let me think a while? But because she… Because she was Janie, he waited.
‘You’re right, you can do it,’ she said. She spoke slowly and with extreme care. ‘You can go to the house tomorrow, if you like, and get the address and find what you’ve been looking for. And it will mean absolutely— nothing— to you. Hip, I know! ’
He glared at her.
‘Believe me, Hip; believe me!’
He charged across the room, grabbed her wrists, pulled her up, thrust his face to hers. ‘You know!’ he shouted. ‘I bet you know. You know every damn thing, don’t you? You have all along. Here I am going half out of my head wanting to know and you sit there and watch me squirm!’
‘Hip! Hip, my arms—‘