“What in God’s name are you doing?” he cried. “Looking at my things,” she said innocently. “I haven’t seen them in a long time. Ever since the boat I’ve been living in one bag. I’m so sick of it. And when I looked out that window after lunch,” she became more animated as she pointed to the window that gave onto the empty desert, “I felt I’d simply die if I didn’t see something civilized soon. Not only that. I’m having a Scotch sent up and I’m opening my last pack of Players.” “You must be in a bad way,” he said. “Not at all,” she retorted, but a bit too energetically. “It’d be abnormal if I
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