Because she had no conviction of sin Valerie never had the sense of being caught. She smiled up at Mac.
“That was a narrow shave. What would I do if it were locked?”
The big Irishman’s hard eyes softened into the beginnings of a grin. She felt her soul was naked under that shrewd omniscient stare. But somehow it did not offend her.
“Knock on the window. Mike will let you in.” He nodded in the direction of the room where Michael slept. He wondered in a vaguely interested way as she went on if she had been out with Dane Barrington.
She did not get to sleep for some time. Through her open window she caught at intervals on some drift of the night breeze the sound of the surf, and she pictured the man down there alone in his tent, and fell asleep to dream of a boy lost in a world of hotels and stations, a boy who kept running round corners after a man carrying a gigantic tooth-brush.
