He had already poured more than a pint of corn whisky down his gullet, and a fire had kindled just below his breastbone. Fumes filled his head."What i... it then?" she said, smelling the stubble-faced man's lank body although he was a yard away. He noticed that he no longer had a pistol."Whisky, darlin', good ol' Marylan' rye whisky. Some calls it lightning, some such bloody name." No, I thank you," Elizabeth said, still wary, but her breathing returning to normal, all her senses atingle.. ‘Do you want another coffee while I’m here?’ ‘Thanks, Becky.’ Five minutes later Tom came in. ‘Hello Mate.’ He clapped me on the shoulder. ‘Becky. Told me about your going to dancing lessons, and that your worried that I would be iffy about her going with you. No, mate. No trouble. Get her out a bit more. It’ll be good for her.’ I did get the idea that it could be good for him as well. We discussed what evenings would be best. Tom had gone back to his workshop by then, and it did strike me. More

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