From what he heard about her, she stayed in the house most of the time and seldom spoke to anyone in the Swamp. She’d been with Grogan for more than three years; and that was a long time for Grogan, considering he was fickle with women. The others had lasted only a few months. But she seems to fill the bill, Corey thought. You can tell from the way he looks at her. He’s hooked, all right, he’s really got it bad. I’d say she’s about twenty-four. Another thing I’d say, she ain’t no ordinary shack job out for free bed-and-board. Just look what she’s got in her hands.

In one hand she had a pair of reading glasses. The other hand held a book. Corey could see the title on the cover. He didn’t know much about philosophy but he sensed that the book was strictly for deep thinkers. It was Nietzsche, it was Thus Spake Zarathustra.

She hadn’t yet noticed Corey. She stood talking to Grogan, her voice low but clear, her speech precisely enunciated, her grammar flawless. She was telling Grogan that she’d been in town today, shopping. She bought shoes and a handbag and then went to the beauty parlor. She had dinner in town and attended a lecture at the art museum.

“It was a very interesting lecture,” she said. “It concerned the French Impressionists and the lecturer came out with some highly original theories. It was really worthwhile.”

“That’s fine,” Grogan said. “I’m glad you had a nice evening.”

“It’s delightful at the museum. I wish you’d go with me sometime.”

“We’ll try to arrange it,” Grogan said.

“You’re always saying that.”

“Well, you know how it is. I just don’t have the time.”

“You could find the time.”

“Not hardly,” Grogan said. “Believe me, dear, I’m up to my neck in work.”

“It isn’t that I’m complaining,” she said. “It’s for your sake as well as mine. You shouldn’t work so hard. If only you’d slacken up a bit. You look so tired.”

“I’m not tired.” There was a tightness in his voice. “It’s just that I’m—”

“Walter, please.”

Grogan turned away, his head lowered. He was biting his lip. He muttered, “—tells me I’m tired.”

“Don’t,” she said quietly but firmly. “Don’t start that.”

But whatever it was, it was started and Grogan couldn’t stop it. He went on muttering, “—it’s one thing to be tired. It’s another thing to be fed up. I tell you it’s getting to the point where I’m—”

“Not now,” she said warningly, and Grogan looked up and saw Corey standing there.