Tum, tum, tirray, tum, tum, tum, te-tum—that thing of Mendelssohn’s! If making one human being absolutely happy is any satisfaction to you—” He held out his hands, and she also stood up. Pause. A very familiar face emerged from a crowd at the impromptu bar on the kitchen island. What right had she to call herself “Alcide”? It was abominable, an imposture. In mailing the tales he had not enclosed return postage or the equivalent in money. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. . Kimble had bedded the animal down at the local inn. What could she do? Reluctantly, at a second curt command, she began to step across the uncarpeted floor, her eyes never leaving the threatening pistol.
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