go after her； he only stood in the ruins of his office； smelling beer
and thinking — ）
You lost your temper。
He rubbed his hand harshly across his lips and followed Watson into the boiler
room。 It was humid in here； but it was more than the humidity that brought the
sick and slimy sweat onto his brow and stomach and legs。 The remembering did
that； it was a total thing that made that night two years ago seem like two
hours ago。 There was no lag。 It brought the shame and revulsion back； the sense
of having no worth at all； and that feeling always made him want to have a
drink； and the wanting of a drink brought still blacker despair — would he ever
have an hour； not a week or even a day； mind you； but just one waking hour when
the craving for a drink wouldn't surprise him like this？
〃The boiler；〃 Watson announced。 He pulled a red and blue bandanna from his
back pocket； blew his nose with a decisive honk； and thrust it back out of sight
after a short peek into it to see if he had gotten anything interesting。
The boiler stood on four cement blocks； a long and cylindrical metal tank；
copper…jacketed and often patched。 It squatted beneath a confusion of pipes and
ducts which zigzagged upward into the high； cobweb…festooned basement ceiling。
To Jack's right； two large heating pipes came through the wall from the furnace
in the adjoining room。
〃Pressure gauge is here。〃 Watson tapped it。 〃Pounds per square inch； psi。 I
guess you'd know that。 I got her up to a hundred now； and the rooms get a little
chilly at night。 Few guests plain； what the fuck。 They're crazy to e up
here in September anyway。 Besides； this is an old b