-21

"No, she wouldn't."
"Shall we summon the writer? I believe he's in Paris!"
"Hiding?"
"Fucking!"
He'd clipped it off with impeccable diction, fox eyes glinting in a face like dough as the word rose crisp to Gothic spires. Shirley fell weak to his shoulders, laughing. "Oh, John, you're impossible, dammit!"
"Yes." He said it like Caesar modestly confirming reports of his triple rejection of the crown. "Now then, shall we get on with it?"
Shirley didn't hear. She'd darted a furtive, embarrassed glance to a nearby Jesuit, checking to see if he'd heard the obscenity. Dark, rugged face. Like a boxer's. Chipped. In his forties. Something sad about the eyes; something pained; and yet warm and reassuring as they fastened on hers. He'd heard. He was smiling. He glanced at his watch and moved away.
"I say, shall we get on with it!"
She turned, disconnected. "Yeah, sure, John, let's do it."
"Thank heaven."
"No, wait!"
"Oh, good Christ!"
She complained about the tag of the scene. She felt that the high point was reached with her line as opposed to her running through the door of the building immediately afterward.
"It adds nothing," said Shirley. "It's dumb."
"Yes, it is, love, it is," agreed Burke sincerely. "However, the cutter insists that we do it," he continued, "so there we are. You see?"
"No, I don't."
"No, of course not. It's stupid. You see, since the