"No, that's not it," I said sharply. "I just don't feel well tonight."
I was curious about the ways she had of getting a man excited, but this was no time to start experimenting.
The solution to my problem lay elsewhere. I didn't know what else to say to her.
I wished she'd go away, but I didn't want to tell her to go.
She was studying me, and then finally she said, "Look, do you mind if I spend the night here?"
"Why?" She shrugged. "I like you. I don't know. Leroy might come back. Lots of reasons. If you don't want me to..."
She caught me off guard again. I might have found a dozen excuses to get rid of her, but I gave in.
"Got any gin?" she asked. "No, I don't drink much." "I've got some in my place. I'll bring it over."
Before I could stop her she was out the window and a few minutes later she returned with a bottle about two-thirds full, and a lemon.
She took two glasses from my kitchen and poured some gin into each.
"Here," she said, "this'll make you feel better. It'll take the starch out of those straight lines.
That's what's bugging you. Everything is too neat and straight and you're all boxed in. Like Algernon in his sculpture there."
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