The sailor continued with long hurried strides up the lane, glancing furtively behind him from time to time. He slowed as he approached the first building and looked around uncertainly as if he were seeking familiar signs. Then he glanced around again as though he feared someone was following him. At the third apartment of the second building he pulled up sharply with a short exclamation not unlike an old war horse at the sound of a bugle. He aimed himself for the door and bolted forward. He knocked earnestly while glancing around again.
" Is who knocking down my door there?" came a cantankerous feminine voice from within. The sailor smiled widely but said nothing. The door swung open.
" Spider!" exclaimed the slender, middle aged, brown skinned woman at the door as she staggered back into the room. She had suddenly acquired the countenance of one who was struck with some kind of rare fever. She dropped the long handled broom she had in her left hand. Her hands went up to cradle the sides of her face in an expression of surprise.
" Hello Luv!" said the sailor in a thick British accent and he flashed what he thought was a wide, charming smile. " A bit of a surprise, me popping in on you like this, what?" The woman seemed to have lost her tongue, so he rambled right on. " I say ole' Luv, how about some moisture on the ole' kisser!" the sailor said and puckered up the lips as he oozed into the apartment and toward her.
" Not so fast, young Luv!" said the woman who seemed to be recovering rapidly. She backed up a bit more with her hands outstretched as if stopping traffic on Fontabelle Road. " Is where you coming from now?"
" By George! I say, is this anyway for a girl to greet a long-lost husband?" said the sailor as he quickly closed the door behind him then leaned against it.
" Don't bother with that husband bit. You never put a ring on this finger," said the woman who now adapted an aggressive stance. She stood there for a while, drinking him in.