“Are you in a hurry? Will you come in and have some coffee?” He hesitated, and glanced towards her companion. The younger of the two, who was seated next to Jack, and seemed to monopolize his attention, could not be more than seventeen, though her person had all the maturity of twenty. Do you have family that I should ask?” “Oh, Julian! No, my family is dead, lost. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. This double buffetting had sharpened her shrewdness and insight. "If I had, you'd not have seen me here," replied Jack, sullenly. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. She would buy a Greyhound ticket to New Orleans, make a kill or two, then travel into Texas and seduce some wandering man into taking her to Mexico, feast upon him once they got there. “Listen,” she said.
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