148 “Sure. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. "I'm quite at your disposal. She's my mealticket. ” She glared at him balefully. But if that can possibly be done I want it to be done. “Who can tell?” she said. Wood, disdainfully. She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure.
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