I know what I am doing better than you do. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. “We’ll go together. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. “I heard nothing,” he declared, “and my ears are good. “It’s—private. The Night-Cellar XVIII.
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