" The walls were covered with racks of loaded rifles. Within forty-eight hours the girl would be on her way east and the boy see-sawing the South China Sea, for ever moving at absolute angles. They parked a block away from Michelle’s house in the opposite direction of where the Beck’s lived. That’s where you go wrong. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. It might be that the boy had taken one drink too many, or someone had given him knock-out drops. So here I am, king of all I survey, with a predilection for poker, a scorched liver, and a piano-player.
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