...Her eyes were slategray, and had almost no expression when they looked at me. She came over
near me and smiled with her mouth and she had little sharp predatory teeth, as
white as fresh orange pits and as shiny as porcelain. They glistened between her
thin too taut lips. Her face lacked color and didn’t look too healthy.
“Tall, aren’t you?” she said.
“I didn’t mean to be.”
Her eyes rounded. She was puzzled. She was thinking. I could see, even on that short acquaintance, that thinking was always going to be a bother to her...
...«She's all alone too. The guy was with her passed out. They took him out to his car.»
«I'll take her home,» I said.
«The hell you will. Well, I wish you luck anyways. Should I gentle up that Bacardi or do you like it the way it is?»
«I like it the way it is as well as I like it at all,» I said...
...«You didn't ever get socked in the kisser, did you?» the gaunt man asked me briefly.
«Not by anybody your weight.»...
...Her small firm chin turned slowly. Her eyes were the blue of mountain lakes. Overhead the rain still pounded, with a remote sound, as if it was somebody else's rain.
«How do you feel?» It was a smooth silvery voice that matched her hair. It had a tiny tinkle in it, like bells in a doll's house. I thought that was silly as soon as I thought of it.
«Great,» I said. «Somebody built a filling station on my jaw.»
«What did you expect, Mr. Marlowe, orchids?»
«Just a plain pine box,» I said. «Don't bother with bronze or silver handles. And don't scatter my ashes over the blue Pacific. I like the worms better...
