He rose uneasy to his feet. He wiped straying silk hairs from his swimming eyes. He turned: stumbled: sank. He sobbed.
She placed him on his back on the floor: cradled his head in her hands.
“Let me get out! Let me get out!” he shouted, motionless.
“Sh-sh. You can go.”
“Fanny, Fanny,” he whispered, “hold me ... hold me still.” His body swung on the floor, the floor careened about his eyes. Her arms, cradling him, swaying his head, were alone moveless.
She dragged him to bed. He was a helpless drunken child. She undressed him. Her hands, touching his naked body, brought to his face a veil of ease. Her hands ceased. He raised his naked flesh from the hot covers.
“Give me a drink!”
“No.”
His eyes swung back from the wall of her response. But his arms surged forward, they caught her. He dragged her against his naked flesh....