Even if he were an old friend, you couldn't afford to do it. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. Here I am as an alternative either to nasty work—or going home. What a pity! But why? There was no way over this puzzle, nor under it, nor around it: that men should drink, knowing the inevitable payment. Now you can understand why I have been obliged to——” “Yes, yes, I understand that,” Courtlaw interrupted. The arm about her was steel hard, and she felt the weapon that was placed at her heart, which thumped uncomfortably in her chest.
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