Martin’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head. They began to wrestle fiercely. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. Was he, too, on the way to the beach? What a pity! All alone, and none to warn him of the abject wretchedness at the end of Drink. “We parted— that night the best of friends. He had gained admission somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna. He savored the last solo, the coda. I hope this is all. Still, I suppose Melusine can always sell the house.
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