get himself under control? The thought perished when Eddie stretched himself beside her.
"Eddie, we must get up."
"Why?"
Yes, why? Well, because things happen, had happened to other girls. She tried to sit up, but he held her with one surprisingly strong arm.
"Eddie, I can't stay here. Maybe you don't know or don't believe that I'm a good girl."
"Who said you weren't?"
"You ain't acting as though you thought I was. You're making me lay here."
He withdrew his arm swiftly. "All right, Kid," he said. "I'm sorry. I thought you knew that with me you'd always be as safe as you wanted to be."
"Oh, Eddie, I didn't think you'd—you'd make me do anything."
He continued to look injured; so she kissed him, bending over him and running one hand through his hair. Again and again she kissed him till his arms were once more around her and she was lying with her breasts crushed against him and swelling just a little above the square-cut neck in the satin dress.
"Eddie, I love you so."
It was hardly more than a breath, but he heard her, and his embrace tightened. He knew what she wanted him to say. He ought to say it, but, damn it, he couldn't. Once said, the words would belie their sincerity, sound hollow and false and theatric. They embarrassed Eddie with their inadequateness. She waited, and he said nothing.
"Oh, I do love you." Dot fell back on the pillow and turned her face away.
Eddie lay with his eyes closed, one hand palm outward against his forehead.
In the moment of silence the long, wet fingers of the
