The going was tough—no fooling.
A couple of times I was tempted to bolt. Once I looked at my watch—2:06. She put a ring-heavy brown hand on the timepiece and pushed it down to my pocket.
“Please, Jerry!” the earnestness in her voice was real. “You cannot go. You cannot leave me here. I will not have it so. I will go also, through the streets following. You cannot leave me to be murdered here!”
I settled down again.
A few minutes later a bell rang sharply.
She went to pieces immediately. She piled over on me, strangling me with her bare arms. I pried them loose enough to let me talk.
“What bell is that?”
“The street door. Do not heed it.”
I patted her shoulder.
“Be a good girl and answer it. Let’s see who it is.”
Her arms tightened.
“No! No! No! They have come!”
The bell rang again.
“Answer it,” I insisted.
Her face was flat against my coat, her nose digging into my chest.
“No! No!”
“All right,” I said. “I’ll answer it myself.”