How could she tell him what indeed already began to puzzle herself, why she had borrowed that money at all? The plain fact was that she had grabbed a bait. Well, kill me. ‘So it was. Surely she could ignore him. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. “Did you tell him?” Capes smiled faintly. Later. The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him.
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