Here also
discoloured papers worried by the wind ran about in crazy circles.
McGregor's heart pounded and his mouth felt dry and unpleasant. He
wondered what he should say and how he should say it when he came into
the presence of the woman. He wished there were some one to be hit
with his fist. He didn't want to make love, he wanted relief. He would
have much preferred a fight.
The veins in McGregor's neck began to swell and as he stood in the
darkness before the door of the house he swore. He stared up and down
the street but the sky, the sight of which might have helped him, was
hidden from view by the structure of an elevated railroad. Pushing
open the door of the house he stepped in. In the dim light he could
see nothing but a form sprang out of the darkness and a pair of
powerful arms pinned his hands to his sides. McGregor looked quickly
about A man huge as himself held him tightly against the door. He had
one glass eye and a stubby black beard and in the half light looked
sinister and dangerous. The hand of the woman who had beckoned to him
from the window fumbled in McGregor's pockets and came out clutching a
little roll of money. Her face, set now and ugly like the man's,
looked up at him from under the arms of her ally.
In a moment McGregor's heart stopped pounding and the dry unpleasant
taste went out of his mouth.
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