"The women all looked up. "Clay," Wilma yelled. "When'd you get back t'town?" Shetossed her cards onto the table and jumped to her feet. She ran around the tableand into his outstretched arms."Just now, li'l darling. I told Mr. Slocum I had something important I neededt'do and he let me ride back with Cap Lewis." Something t'do, Clay," Wilma said wryly. "And what would that be?" This." He took Wilma's head in her hands and kissed her. "For starters." Perhaps, you would like to continue this... upstairs?" Lady Cerise suggested.Clay put his arm around Wilma's waist, his hand rested on her right buttock."That sounds like a fine idea. Can you send up some supper in about an hour?We'll have worked ourselves up an appetite by then."Cerise nodded. "Steak with the Saratoga chips, non?" And some of that good red wine of yours t'wash it down with." Clay said with agrin. "You just give us that hour first." He grabbed Wilma by the hand and theystarted walking quickly towards the stairs.The other. Her violent moods subsided and, gradually, like the regeneration of scar tissue, she became a person again, even holding conversations with Paul, but always as a long-term hostage might talk to their keeper. She held back and would not open, even on mundane topics, giving only enough information to be an active party in the dialogue.Paul still kept her locked in the room, knowing that at the first opportunity, she would bolt and be lost for ever with an inevitable outcome, one needle too many perhaps or a violent death in an alley. He still didn't know why he was doing this for her, someone he didn't know at all, a complete stranger. But, he recognised in her, something of the wounded animal that triggers an emotive response occasionally; he put it down to that.Paul decided after eight weeks of captivity that she could be trusted to have the run of the warehouse apartment. He left the door to her room unlocked and open. Abigail didn't emerge from the safety of her cot for two days,.
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