62 <8> A FIRST DATE WITH JOHN DIEDERMAYER The weekend began for her with that luxury of all luxuries, sleep. He would teach her all he knew of life so that if the Hand should ever reach his shoulder, she would be able to defend herself. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored. A man is so apt to—to take women a little too lightly. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. I'll lay my life he's gone. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night.
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