Chapter 8
THE YOUNG MAN was suddenly aware that he welcomed the diversion. He felt a quiet glow of contentment. She looked well-groomed, and the sight of her was a sedative for his nerves still vibrating from the scene he had just witnessed. This girl was of his own world, his own class; unlike poor little Jennie with her bewildering slang, she would speak his own language. Against this background of crime and violence upon which he had blundered, she stood out as something sane and normal. He thought he would like to talk to her.
A tub of flowering azaleas hid him from her as she stood at the parapet. He was glad of this screen— it enabled him to study her at close quarters without being observed. Her face was pallid in the moonlight— once more he was struck by the suggestion of strain
