She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. He felt her relaxation and let go of her wrists. The pouting cherry lips were slightly parted and the very faintest of panting breaths, together with the quick rise and fall of an alluring bosom, betrayed her fear. “Look here,” he said, protruding his eyes; “why get anything to do at all just yet? Why, if you must be free, why not do the sensible thing? Make yourself worth a decent freedom. ” “Did I?” she said. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. She undid his zipper and pulled his shorts down his hips. ” He said.
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