" "Willingly. Abruptly he gripped her wrist. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. . Other girls gathered around like sheep. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. But don’t run away with the idea that I’m hanging out for a wife at last, because I’m not.
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