o； they don't have real butter here； of course … on my fingers。
〃Go on inside and wash your damned hands；〃 he said； stepping back and taking another bite of his Danish。 〃Jesus Christ。〃
I went up the steps。 My legs were shaking； my heart pounding like an engine with leaky valves and shaky old pistons。 As I grasped the knob that would let me into the kitchen … and safety … Dolan said： 〃If you tell anyone I squeezed your po' old wrist； Paulie； I'll tell them you're having delusions。 Onset of senile dementia； likely。 And you know they'll believe me。 If there are bruises； they'll think you made them yourself。〃
Yes。 Those things were true。 And once again； it could have been Percy Wetmore saying them； a Percy that had somehow stayed young and mean while I'd grown old and brittle。
〃I'm not going to say anything to anyone；〃 I mutered。 〃Got nothing to say。〃
〃That's right； you old sweetie。〃 His voice light and mocking； the voice of a lugoon （to use Percy's word） who thought he was going to be young forever。 〃And I'm going to find out what you're up to。 I'm going to make it my business。 You hear？〃
I heard； all right； but wouldn't give him the satisfaction of saying so。 I went in； passed through the kitchen （I could now smell eggs and sausage cooking； but no longer wanted any）； and hung the poncho back up on its hook。 Then I went upstairs to my room … resting at every step； giving my heart time to slow … and gathered my writing materials together。
I went down to the solarium and was just sitting at the little table by the windows when my friend Elaine poked her head in。 She looked tired； and； I thought； unwell。 She'd bed her hair out but was still in her robe。 We old sweeties don't stand much on ceremony； for the most part； we can't a