She placed the freezer back on top of Ray Plote's old hiding place, now his permanent resting place. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. This structure at once satisfied him as to where he stood. He said daring things with a grace which made them irresistible, his eyes flashed back upon her some eloquent but silent appreciation of the change in her manner towards him. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. "Oh lord! I hope not.
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