130 “You look fantastic!” He said, sitting down next to her on the sectional sofa, his black tee shirt and blue jeans in stark contrast to her cream colored princess gown. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. In all his life he had never realized a dream; but the thought had never before hurt him. ’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively. But he did not follow on with the thought. Superimposed was the agitating thought of what would follow the death of this unwelcome guest: confusion, poking authorities, British and American red tape.
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