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.