The Conrads’ eviction was long overdue, but he couldn’t avoid the fear that Rufus was in a mood to get rid of people he didn’t want. He’d known that. Last night had changed nothing; he hadn’t done it to change anything, or if he had, then he should have spelled it out to Rufus. Who would have doubtless refused him on those terms, so perhaps he should be grateful for that one last fuck and stop wishing for more than he was entitled to. The thought of what he was entitled to came back with some force a little later, when Mr. Pauncefoot arrived.
