Her husband was drinking in the tavern with the other guests. “These are her rooms,” she said. I'll be feeling fine in no time. She sensed that he was looking for her. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. It’s not you—not a bit. Businesswomen in pointy-toed shoes swooned coyly in his direction, tipping their noses over their glossy magazines to admire 273 him. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. “Useless—worse than useless.
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