She sprained her right foot and fell to the ground.The wind howled down from the top of the south slope, whipped the trees on both sides of the road, turned her cries into a whisper, and blew her scarf into the darkness.She sat up slowly, put her palms on the gravel and straightened her body, then twisted sideways, releasing the legs that were under her body. The sandal on her right foot lay on the ground at her feet.She put on the shoes only to find that the heels had come off.She looked around, began to find her heels, and climbed up the hill on all hands and feet against the wind.The moment her right knee touched the ground, she flinched in pain.

She quickly gave up and tried unsuccessfully to break off the heel of her left shoe.She put down her shoes and stood up with her back to the wind, leaning back because of the wind and the steep descent.Her gown clung to her back, its hem billowing in front of her, her hair clung to her cheeks.She stood on tiptoe with her right foot to replace the dropped heel, and limped down the slope. There is a wooden bridge at the bottom of the slope, and about a hundred yards behind the bridge is a fork in the road. In the dark, it is difficult to see what is written on the road sign at the intersection.She stopped, and instead of looking at the signpost, she looked around.Although the wind here was not as violent as at the top of the slope, she was shaking.The bushes on the left were swaying in the wind, and the yellow lights behind the bushes were faintly visible.She took the fork on the left.

After walking for a while, she came to a small clearing among the trees beside the road.There was much more light here, clearly illuminating a path.The path branched off from the main road and wound its way through the little clearing.The source of the light was a house at the end of the path, and the light came through thin curtains. She walked down the path to the house and knocked on the door, but there was no answer.She knocked again. A hoarse and indifferent male voice said, "Come in." She put her hand on the doorknob and hesitated.There was no other sound coming from the house, but the whistling wind was everywhere outside the house.She knocked lightly on the door again.

The voice sounded again, with the same tone as before: "Come in." She opens the door.The wind blew in violently, and she kept from falling only by tightly grasping the handle with both hands.The wind blew through her into the house, billowing the curtains and scattering a newspaper from the table.She slammed the door shut and leaned against it and said, "I'm sorry." She struggled to get every word out without an accent. "It's all right," said the man who was cleaning his pipe by the fireplace. His bronze eyes were as emotionless as his husky voice. "I'll fix it right away." inner wall.

She left the door and walked forward with a limp, frowning slightly, examining the man in front of her with puzzled eyes.She was a tall woman, and although her legs were crippled, her hair was blown tousled, her hands and bare arms were stained and cut by the gravel of the road, and the red crepe of her gown suffered along with it, she The gesture is still very proud. She still struggled to speak: "I have to go to the train station, but I sprained my ankle." The man stopped what he was doing and raised his head.He had a sallow complexion, distinctive features, a mass of disheveled hair the same color as his eyes, and an expression that was neither hostile nor friendly.He looked at the woman's face, then at her torn skirt.Then without looking back he called, "Hi, Evelyn."

A woman entered the doorway behind the man.She was slender like a girl, but she had the face of a mature woman, wearing a tawny tracksuit, and her thin face was sunburned.She has black eyes and short dark hair. The man didn't look back at her.He nodded towards the woman in red and said, "This is—" The woman in red interrupted him: "My name is Louise Fischer." "She sprained her foot," said the man. Evelyn's searching black eyes moved from the woman in red to the man.She couldn't see the man's face, so she turned her eyes to the woman again.She smiled, and said quickly: "I'm just going home, and I can drop you off at Meyer Valley."

The woman in red was about to smile, her curious eyes made Evelyn blush suddenly, and also made her face a little more unruly.Evelyn is beautiful, but the woman in red standing next to her is even more beautiful.She has thick eyelashes and a pair of long eyes, which appear to be well-proportioned under the smooth and wide forehead.Her mouth was not small, but it exuded a keen and changeable quality.In the firelight of the fireplace, her face was as sharp as a sculpture. The man blows on the pipe in his hand, blowing out a small cloud of black powder. "Don't worry," he said, "there won't be any cars before six o'clock in the morning."

He looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece. It read ten-thirty-three. "Why don't you heal her leg?" The woman in red said, "No, don't bother, I—" She shifted her weight to the sprained leg, shivering from the pain, and stretched out her hand to grab the back of the chair to stabilize her body. The girl walked towards her quickly, and stammered with guilt: "I... I didn't think of it, please forgive me." She stretched out a hand to support the woman in red, and let her sit on the chair. The man got up and put his pipe on the mantelpiece beside the clock.He was of medium build, but stocky and looked shorter than he was.His neck was stubby and muscular, protruding from the V-neck of a gray sweater; beneath the sweater were baggy gray trousers and heavy brown leather shoes.He folded the knife and put it in his pocket before turning to Louise Fischer.

Evelyn knelt down beside the woman in red, and pulled down the stocking on her right foot. She was so nervous that she was incoherent, and she muttered sympathetically like a hen: "Your knee is scratched too, oops! Look! Look at how swollen your ankles are, you really shouldn't be walking such a long distance in these shoes." Her body blocked the legs of the woman in red, and the man couldn't see them. "Okay, sit still, I'll take care of it soon." She pulled down the torn red skirt to cover her bare legs. The woman in red smiled politely and said cautiously: "You are so kind."

The girl ran out of the room. Man holds a pack of cigarettes in his hand.He shook it, and three cigarettes protruded from the box, about half an inch.He hands it to her. "Do you smoke?" "Thank you." She took out one, held it in her mouth, and looked at the man's hand when he took a match to light her cigarette.His hands were thick-boned and strong, but not the hands of a workman.She studied his face through the eyelashes as he lit his cigarette.He was younger than when he first saw him, probably no more than thirty-two or three-year-old.Under the flash of the beating matches, his facial features were no longer so indifferent, but became rigorous.

"Did you fall hard?" He said in a purely chatty tone. "I wish I didn't fall like this." She pulled up her skirt and looked first at her ankles, then at her knees.The ankle was still intact and not too swollen; there was a deep cut and two shallower wounds on the knee.She stroked the edge of the wound with her index finger. "I don't like pain," she said sincerely. Evelyn brought back a steaming basin of water, clothes, a roll of bandages and ointments.She stared at the man and woman in front of her with wide black eyes, but when the two looked at her, she lowered her eyelids to hide her surprise. "I'll help you treat the wound now, and it will be healed within a minute." She knelt down in front of the woman in red again, her hands were a little nervous, and some water splashed on the floor.She knelt between the man's and Louise Fischer's legs. The man walked to the door and pushed it open a half-foot gap against the wind. The woman in red asked the girl to help her wash her ankles. "Do you have to wait until the morning for the train?" She bit her lip, preoccupied. "yes." The man closed the door and said, "It's going to rain in an hour." He added some firewood to the fireplace, then stood with his feet spread apart, his hands in his pockets, a cigarette in one corner of his mouth, and looked at Ian. Flynn treated the wound on the woman's leg with a calm expression. The girl dried the woman's ankle in red and began to wrap it in a bandage.She moved faster and faster, and her breathing became more rapid.The woman in red almost laughed again, but she didn't, she just said, "You are so kind." The girl murmured, "Nothing." There were three rapid knocks on the door. Louise Fischer was startled, dropped the cigarette in her hand, and looked around in horror.The girl didn't even raise her head, and continued with her work.The man turned to look at the door, neither in his expression nor in his behavior did he seem to notice the fear of the woman in red.He shouted in a hoarse and flat voice: "Stop knocking, come in." The door opened and in came a spotted Great Dane, followed by two tall men in evening dress.The Great Dane came straight up to Louise Fischer and sniffed her hand.Louise Fischer looked directly at the two men who had just entered the door, without a trace of timidity or warmth in their eyes. One of the men took off his gray tweed hat that matched his coat, walked up to her, and smiled, "Is this where you landed?" His smile faded when he saw the wound and bandages on her leg up. "what happened?" He was about forty years of age, well-dressed and well-mannered, with neatly combed black hair and a carefully trimmed black moustache.His bright dark eyes were watching the woman with concern.He pushed the Great Dane away and took the woman's hand. "I don't think the injury is serious." She didn't smile back, her voice was cold, "I fell on the road and twisted my foot, these two are very—" The man turned to his master in the gray sweater, held out his hand, and said quickly, "Thank you for taking such good care of Miss Fischer. You're Brashear, aren't you?" The man in the sweater nods. "Then you are Kane Robson." "Exactly." Robson turned to look at another man who was still standing by the door, "This is Mr. Conroy." Brashear nodded.Conroy said "Hello" and walked over to Louise Fischer.Robson was about six feet tall, and Conroy was an inch or two taller and a decade or so younger.He was fair-haired, broad-shouldered, and slender, with a small but well-shaped head and well-proportioned features.He had a dark coat on his elbows and a black hat in his hand.He lowered his head and smiled at the woman in red, "You're really joking." She said to Robson, "What are you doing here?" Robson smiled kindly, lifting his shoulders a little. "You said you were not feeling well and wanted to lie down. Helen went to your room to see if you were feeling better, but you disappeared. We were worried that something might happen if you ran out." He looked at her legs, and then Shrugging slightly, "You see, we are right to be worried." She ignored his smile. "I want to go to town," she told him, "now you know." "Well, if you want to go—" he said kindly, "but you can't just go." He looked at her torn evening dress and nodded, "We'll take you home first, you can change undress and pack—” He turned to Brashear, “when is the next train?” Brashear replied, "Six o'clock." The Great Dane was sniffing his feet. "You see," Robson said softly, still addressing the woman, "there's plenty of time." She looked down at her clothes and seemed pleased with them. "I'll just wear this," she replied. "Okay, listen, Louise," Robson said again, still sounding sensible, "the train won't be there for hours, you've got plenty of time to rest, take a nap, and—" "I'm out," she said curtly. Robson scowled impatiently, but he spread his hands half-jokingly in a helpless gesture. "But what are you going to do next?" His tone was as helpless as his gestures, "You can't do it yourself, unless Brashear takes you in until six o'clock, and then drives you to the station .” She looked at Brashir calmly, and asked calmly, "Will I trouble you too much?" Brashear shook his head casually. "Won't." Both Robson and Conroy looked at Brashear with interest, but not overt hostility.Brashear calmly accepted their inquiring gazes. Louise Fischer said coldly, as if she didn't want to say any more: "That's the deal." Conroy looked at Robson questioningly, who sighed wearily and asked, "Have you decided to do this, Louise?" "yes." Robson shrugged again and said, "You've always been clear-headed." His face and voice were dark.He turned and walked towards the door, pausing again to ask, "Do you have enough money?" His hand was already in the inner pocket of his tuxedo vest. "I don't need anything," she told him. "Well, if you need anything later, let me know. Come on, Dick." He went to the door, opened it, glanced back into the room, said "Thank you and good night" to Brashear, and went out. Conroy touched Louise Fischer's forearm with three fingers, said "good luck" to her, bowed to Evelyn and Brashear, and followed Robson out. The Great Dane looked up and watched the two men walk out.Evelyn stared at the door in despair, wringing her hands.Louise Fischer told Brashear: "It would be wiser to lock the door." Brashear gazed at her long and thoughtfully.His expression didn't really change, but the muscles in his face stiffened as a result. "No," he finally said, "I don't lock it." The woman in red raised her eyebrows slightly, but said nothing.Evelyn spoke.For the first time since Louise Fischer had arrived she spoke to Brashear.Her tone was very affirmative: "They are all drunk." "They've all been drinking." He reluctantly agreed.He looked at the girl thoughtfully, obviously not realizing her uneasiness and trouble until now. "Looks like a drink will do you good." Confused, she runs away from his gaze. "You—would you like a drink?" "That's exactly what I mean." He looked at Louise Fischer questioningly.The latter nodded and said, "Thank you." The girl walked out of the room.The woman in red leaned forward slightly, looking up at Brashir intently.Her tone was already calm, but the slow pace of her speech added weight to her words. "Don't ever think that Mr. Robson isn't dangerous at all." He carefully considered the words, and he was exhausted, then looked at her slightly curiously and said, "Did I offend him?" She nodded affirmatively. He smiled and accepted the fact.He held out his cigarette again and asked, "What about you?" She looked past him, as if staring at a certain point in the distance, and slowly replied: "Me too, but I just lost a bad friend." Evelyn walks in with a tray of glasses, soda and a full bottle of whiskey.Her dark eyes flicked furtively from man to woman, probing.She went to the table and mixed the wine. Brashear had already lit his cigarette and asked, "Are you going to leave him forever?" She looked at him haughtily for a long moment, almost giving the impression that she was not going to answer the question.But suddenly, her face was distorted, revealing a look of extreme disgust, and she uttered a word full of hatred: "Yes!" He put his glass on the mantelpiece and went to the door.He looked up into the night, but only opened the door a two-inch gap and closed it instantly.There was no sign of tension in his demeanor, as if he was preoccupied with something else. He turned back to the mantelpiece, picked up his glass, and took a sip.Then he lowered his eyes and gazed thoughtfully at the wine glass in his hand.He was about to speak when the phone rang behind a door facing the fireplace.He opened the door, and just as the figure disappeared, the hoarse and indifferent voice came out. "Hello?...Yes...Yes, Nora...Please wait a moment." He went back to the room and said to the girl, "Nora is looking for you." He closed the door behind the girl. Louise said: "If you didn't know Kane Robson before tonight, you must have just moved here." "A month or two. But, of course, he's been in Europe and just came back last week." He paused. "Come back with you." He picked up his glass. "Actually, he's my the landlord." "Then you are—" She stopped, as the door opened again.Evelyn stood in the doorway, her hand on her heart, and called, "Father is coming—someone called and told him I was here." She hurried across the room, picking up her hat and coat from a chair. Brashear said, "Wait, if you go now, you'll meet him on the road. You should wait for him to get here before you sneak out the back door and get home while he's chatting with me, Then you win. I'll go and drive your car to the path by the back door." He drank the wine in his glass, got up and walked to the door. "But you won't—" her lips trembled, "won't you fight him? Promise me you won't." "No." He walked into the bedroom and came out almost immediately, with a brown hat on his head and a windbreaker under his arm, "I'll be back in five minutes." He went out through the front door . Louise Fischer asked: "Your father doesn't approve of your relationship?" The girl shook her head sadly.She turned suddenly to the woman, stretched out her hands imploringly, her lips, almost bloodless, twitched as she spoke. "You'll be here later, won't you? Don't let them fight. They can't fight." The woman in red took the girl's hand, wrapped it gently in her palm, and said, "I will do my best, I promise you." "He can't get into any more trouble," whimpered the girl, "he can't have any more trouble!" The door opened and Brashear came in. "It's all arranged." He said briskly, took off the windbreaker and threw it on the chair, and put his wet hat on it. "I parked the car at the end of the fence." He picked up his and the woman's empty glasses and walked to the table. "You'd better hide in the kitchen now, in case he breaks in." He poured the whiskey into the in the cup. The girl moistened her lips with her tongue and said, "Okay, I think so." Almost instinctively, she gave Louise Fischer a shy, pleading smile.She hesitated for a moment, then stretched out her finger to touch his sleeve. "You...you will do what you say?" "Of course." The man was still preparing his drink. "I'll call you tomorrow." She smiled at Louis Fischer again, and walked reluctantly towards the door. Brashear handed the wine glass back to the woman in red, turned the chair around, and sat down facing her. "Your little friend," said the woman, "she loves you very much." He seemed rather skeptical. "Oh, she's still a child," he said. "But her father," she said softly, "wasn't very kind, eh?" "He's a lunatic," he replied casually, and then looked thoughtful. "Could it be that Robson called him?" "Does he know about you?" He smiled. "It's the kind of place where everyone knows everything about everyone else." "Then my business," she said, "you—" She was interrupted by a violent banging on the door.The door shook with the lock, and the whole house resounded like thunder.The Great Dane rushed over, straightened his legs, full of vigilance. Brashear gave the woman a short, merciless smile, and called, "Don't knock, come in." A man of medium build pushed open the door roughly.He had a shiny black rubber raincoat slung under his arm, and a gray hat with a folded-back brim, and dark eyes that were too close together were burning with anger.His pale, bony nose jutted high above a short, jagged gray moustache.In one hand he clutched a heavy applewood cane. "Where is my daughter?" The man asked, his voice was thick and powerful, and there was an echo as soon as he uttered it. Brashear's face was like a mask of indifference. "Hello, Grant," he said. The man standing at the door took another step forward. "Where is my daughter?" The Great Dane growled and bared his teeth.Louise Fischer called out: "Frantz!" The Great Dane looked at her, wagging his tail slightly from side to side, and backed away. "Evelyn isn't here," Brashear said. Grant stared at him. "Where is she?" Brashear was calm: "I don't know." "You're lying!" Grant's red eyes scanned the room, and the knuckles of his hand holding the cane turned white. "Evelyn!" he yelled. Louise Fischer seemed amused by the anger of the man with the mustache, and said with a smile, "That's the truth, Mr. Grant, there really is no one else here." He glanced at her quickly, his maddened eyes filled with disgust. "Bah! Whores and criminals are the same thing, worthy of being believed?" He strode to the bedroom door, and disappeared inside. Brashear grinned. "You see, he's a madman. He always talks like that, like a hero in a dime novel." She smiled at him and said, "Be kind to him." "I'm showing tolerance," he said dryly. Grant came out of the bedroom and went across the house to the back door.He opened the back door and disappeared behind it. Brashear finished his drink and put the glass on the floor beside the chair. "When he comes back, there will be even more anger." The man with the moustache came back into the house, walked to the front door without a word, pulled it open, clutched the latch with one hand, and slammed the metal end of his cane on the floor with the other, yelling at the cloth. Rahil yelled: "One last time to warn you, don't pester my daughter again! I won't tell you a second time." He slammed the door and walked out. Brashear let out a heavy breath and shook his head. "He's crazy," he sighed, "completely crazy." Louise Fischer said, "He called me a bitch, did someone from here—" He wasn't listening to her.He got up from his chair and took up his hat and coat. "I'll sneak out and see if she's gone safely. If she gets home first, it'll be all right. Nora—that's her stepmother—will take care of her; but in case she doesn't—I Be right back." He went out the back door. Louise Fischer kicked off her still-on shoes and tried to stand up, putting her body's weight on her injured leg.She tried taking three steps, only to find that her leg, though stiff, was still serving her.Then she saw that her hands and arms were still stained with dirt from the road.She searched around and found a bathroom with the door open next to the bedroom.While washing her hands, she hummed a song, and went back to the bedroom to brush her hair and dust her clothes.But she couldn't find the powder and lipstick, so she stopped in annoyance.While she was contemplating her own figure in front of a tall full-length mirror, she heard the door outside being opened. Her face lit up. "Here I am," she called, going into another room. Robson and Conroy were standing just inside the door. "Honey, so you're still here," Robson said, smiling at her surprise.His face was paler than before, and his eyes were a little sluggish, but nothing else changed.Conroy, however, looked disheveled; he was flushed and obviously drunk. The woman has calmed down. "What do you want?" she demanded bluntly. Robson looked around. "Where's Brashear?" "What do you want?" she asked again. He looked at the open bedroom door behind her, grinned, and walked over.She looked at him mockingly as he came back from the empty bedroom; Conroy had gone to the fireplace where the Great Dane lay.He stood with his back to the fire, watching the man and woman. Robson said, "Well, here it is, Louise, you have to come home with us." She said, "No." He nodded his head up and down, his mouth still grinning. "I have spent so much money on you, but I still haven't made enough money." He took a step forward. She retreated to the table and grabbed the whiskey bottle by the neck. "Don't touch me!" Her voice was as cold as her face, full of anger. The Great Dane straightened up and growled. Robson's dark eyes turned away to look at the Great Dane, then at Conroy, one eyelid twitched, and then back to Louise. Conroy was so calm and so generous that the women and the dogs didn't notice him.But he put his right hand into his coat pocket, took out a black pistol, put the muzzle to the Great Dane's ear, and shot the Great Dane through the head.The dog struggled to its feet, but fell on its side, its limbs twitching feebly.Conroy smiled silly and put the pistol back in his pocket. Louise Fischer turned around startled by the gunshot.She screamed at Conroy and threw the whiskey bottle at him, but Robson grabbed her wrist with one hand and twisted it away with the other.He grinned teasingly: "No, no, my sweetheart." He put the bottle back on the table, but still held her wrist. The Great Dane's legs had stopped moving. Robson said, "Okay, can we go now?" She didn't try to get her wrist back, but she just stood up straight and said seriously: "My friend, if you think I'm going to go with you, then you don't know me too well." Robson chuckled. "If you think you don't have to come with me, then you don't know me too well." The door opened again, and Brashear came in.His sallow face was still calm and indifferent, but there was a shadow of anger in his eyes.He carefully closed the door behind him before looking at his guests.He spoke as if he were complaining without anger. "What the hell is this?" he asked. "Visitor's Day? Do you think I'm a hotel owner?" Robson said, "We'll be going in a minute. Miss Fisher will go with us." Brashear was looking at the dead dog, anger deepening in his bronze eyes. "If she wants to go, no problem, she can go." He said indifferently. The woman said, "I won't go." Brashear was still looking at the dog. "That's okay." He murmured, and then his words became a little more interesting, "But, who did this?" He went to the dead dog, kicked the dog's head, "it made the ground It's blood," he complained. Then, without looking up, or tensing his body, or shifting his weight even slightly, he threw his right fist into Conroy's handsome, drunken face. Conroy was punched and fell flat, without bending his knees.He turned slightly as he fell, hitting his head and one shoulder against the stone fireplace.Then he fell forward again, made a full circle, and fell face up on the floor. Brashear turned quickly to face Robson. Robson had let go of the woman's wrist and was trying to reach the gun in his coat pocket, but she threw herself into his arm and clung to him, her weight on top of her.Unable to shake her off, Robson tugged at her hair with his other hand. Brashear came around behind Robson, punched him on the chin, and thrust his forearm across, grabbing the taller man by the throat.His other hand grabbed Robson's wrist as he tightened his forearm.He said, "Okay, I've got him under control." Louise Fischer let go of the man's arm and fell down on her buttocks.Not only did she have the light of victory on her face, but she also had the same solemnity as Brashear. Brashear snapped Robson's arm back, forcing him to lift his arm up behind his back, and the gun in Robson's hand rose with it.When the gun was raised to level, Robson pulled the trigger.The bullet went diagonally between his back and Brashear's chest, shattering a corner of a bookshelf at the far end of the room. Brashear said, "Try one more time, baby, and I'll break your arm. Throw the gun away!" Robson hesitated, then let the gun drop to the floor.Louise Fischer crawled across on all fours, gun in hand.She was sitting on the corner of the table with the gun in her hand. Brashear pushed Robson away from him, crossed the room, knelt down beside the man on the floor, felt for his pulse, searched him all over, and produced Conroy's A pistol in the ass pocket. Conroy moved a leg, blinked sleepily, and moaned. Brashear twisted his thumb and pointed at him, and said bluntly to Robson, "Take him and get out." Robson walked up to Conroy, stooped to lift his head and shoulders a little, shook him, and said angrily, "Come on, Dick, wake up, we're leaving." Conroy muttered, "I... want to..." He tried to lie back down again. "Get up, get up," Robson began growling, flapping his cheeks. Conroy shook his head, still muttering: "No... don't want to... get up." Robson slapped the fair face again. "Come on, get up, you bloody louse." Conroy was still moaning, muttering words no one could understand. Brashear said impatiently: "Whatever you do, get him out. Let him get wet and he'll wake up." Robson was about to speak, but changed his mind, picked up his hat from the floor, put it on, and bent over to the blond man again.He pulled Conroy up and forced him to sit up first, then wrapped his limp arm around his shoulder, put one hand around his back, and put it under his armpit, then got up, slowly Hold up the guy with weak legs next to him. Brashear has opened the door.Robson half dragged Conroy away. Brashear closed the door, leaned back against it, and shook his head with a resigned self-mockery look. Louise Fischer put Robson's pistol on the table and stood up. "I'm sorry," she said heavily, "I didn't mean to put you in this—" He interrupted her hastily: "It's okay." Then he grinned, with a little bitterness, but his tone was still casual, "This happens to me all the time. God! I want to have a drink." She immediately turned to the table and started pouring him wine. He looked her up and down thoughtfully, took a sip of his wine, and asked, "Is that how you left?" She looked down at her clothes and nodded. He seemed to be enjoying himself. "What are you going to do?" "After I enter the city? I'm going to sell these first," she shook her hand, revealing the ring on her hand, "then—then I don't know." "You mean you have no money at all?" he asked. "Yes." She replied calmly. "You don't even have the money to buy a train ticket?" She shook her head to say no, raised her eyebrows slightly, and was so calm that she was almost arrogant. "Of course, you still have the ability to lend me such a small amount of money." "Of course," he said, laughing, "you're a character." She didn't seem to understand what he was saying. He took another sip of his drink and leaned forward. "Listen, you look so ridiculous to take the train like this." He flicked two fingers at her gown, "how about this, I'll drive you into town and find a friend to take you in until How about you get some clothes that you can wear out?" She examined his face carefully, and then replied, "If that's not too much trouble for you." "Then it's settled. Next," he said, "shall I take a nap first?" He drank the wine in the glass, excused himself to go out to see the sky, and walked towards the gate. When he turned back from the door, although she hurriedly put away her worried expression, she was still caught by him.There was mocking apology in his smile and voice: "I couldn't help myself. They locked me up for a while - I mean in jail - and that made me uncontrollable. I had to make sure I wasn't Locked up." His smile twisted, "There's a word for it—claustrophobia—and it doesn't help me." "I'm sorry," she said, "was this... a long time ago?" "It's been long enough since I've been in," he said dryly. "I've only been out a few weeks. That's why I'm here to try to sort out my life and see how I can live, and What exactly do you want to do?" "And then?" she asked softly. "Then what? You're asking if I've found a place to live and what I want to do, right? I don't know." He stood in front of her with his hands in his pockets, lowered his gaze, and looked at her with burning eyes ，“我想我一直在等待某些事发生，某些我能当成是指引我走上人生道路的标志。唔，结果你出现了。这足够了。我会和你一起走。” 他抽出插在口袋的手，弯下身，把她从桌上拉起来，让她双足着地，野蛮地亲吻她。 好一会儿她都一动不动。然后，她扭着身体从他臂弯里挣开来，手指都伸不直就往他脸上招呼。她气得脸色苍白。 他抓住她的手，粗鲁地拉了下来，怒吼道：“住手！如果你不想玩，那你就别玩，到此为止。” “确实到此为止。”她愤怒地说。 “很公平。”他面色不变，语气也不变。 不一会儿，她又开口了：“那个男人——你那位小女朋友的父亲——叫我婊子。这里的人经常说起我吗？” 他嘴角露出一丝不赞同。“你知道这种事的。罗布森家是本地的大地主，这里的上等人，世代如此。他们的一举一动都是大新闻。这儿的每一个人都对他们家的事如数家珍，所以——” “那他们怎么说我？” 他咧嘴笑了。“当然是怎么难听怎么说了。你指望什么？他们很了解罗布森。” "Then what do you think?" “关于你？” 她点点头，专注地盯着他的眼睛。 “我不擅长到处批评别人，”他说，“我只是好奇你为什么会跟他好上。你肯定知道他是个什么样的卑鄙小人。” “我并不那么了解，”她说得很简单，“而且我当时被困在一个瑞士小乡村里。” “你是女演员？” She nodded. “歌手。” The phone rang. 他不急不忙地走进卧室，那毫无感情的声音传了出来。“你好？……是的，伊芙琳……是的。”他久久不语。 “是的，好的，谢谢。” 他仍旧不急不忙地回来，但一瞧见他，路易丝·菲舍尔就从坐着的桌子上站起身来。他一脸苍白，面露胆怯，太阳穴和前额上汗水正在闪闪发光。他右手的指头间夹着的香烟已经断成两截，被碾得粉碎。 “是伊芙琳打来的。她父亲是。康罗伊颅骨碎裂——濒临死亡。罗布森刚打过电话给伊芙琳的父亲，说他要去申请一张逮捕令。都怪这该死的壁炉。我不能再进监狱了！”