She watched him pu-pu-pup. At half after eleven she slid along
the bench.
"Where you goin'?"
He turned to look down.
"Eh?"
"Where you goin'?"
"No place."
"I'm cold."
"Pu-pu-pup."
"I am."
"Pu-pu-pup."
She leaned around, trying to bring her face to front his and to lift her
nose to a little wrinkly smile.
"Aw, you!"
"Go home and go to bed," he said. "A nice-appearin' girl like you ought
to be ashamed."
"I--ain't."
"Run along."
"Where?"
"You're barkin' up the wrong tree."
She fell silent. A chill raced through her.
"O God!" she began, under her breath. "O God! God!" Then: "Mamma! Mamma!
Mamma!"
"You _are_ cold," he said, reaching out to pinch her jacket sleeve.
"That's a warm coat. Where do you live?"
"Lemme alone," she said, staring out before her as if she were seeing
the stripe and vine, stripe and vine.
"You got the shivers," he said. "Better go home."
"Lemme alone."
"Ain't there no way you girls can learn to behave yourselves?
Here"--digging down into his pocket--"here."
"No."
"Where you live?"
"I dunno. I dunno."
"You surely know where you live."
She looked up at him in one of the rare moments of opening wide her
eyes.
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