"It'd be a shame if you let popsy-wopsy change you over."
"Why do you keep hammering at that sort of thing?"
"Jimmy Smith. He told me you were being fatted for slaughter, that is, if you haven't taken the veil already."
The phrase recalled Judge Wardell's remark. Ken had not understood what the Judge had meant when he boasted that he had "taken the veil."
"Exactly what does that mean?" he asked Anita.
"Letting your hair down, camping, and all the rest."
"I don't get you."
"I'm glad. Why, I even think you're a fall guy. Ain't it the truth?"
"No."
"Honey, I'm willing to save you. Not for these glad rags you wear, nor for the Rolls over there … but because nice little Nita liked you the minute she saw you."
She straightened up. "I'm the kind of gal who isn't too proud to tell the truth. I was afraid of you because the gang had you bracketed as trade. I didn't want to get a cold turn-down. That's bad for the ego and I've got to have an inflated ego or I'm flat as a glass of stale beer."
Her hand roamed over his smooth cheek to his hair.
"Wanta dance with me? On the stage?"
"I'd love to," Ken said.
"It's okay with me, if you'll—" Her voice trailed away, but the implications concealed in its tone were plain. She placed a hand at the back of his head and drew his lips to hers.
She kissed him. At that moment, the wind shifted … a damp, cold breeze cut across the water to the land. Ken shivered.
