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"
No
,
you
know
the
reason
I
took
a
pot
shot
at
it
,
Loretta
says
?
She
says
I
was
temporarily
insane
.
No
kidding
.
From
the
shelling
and
all
.
"
X
threaded
his
fingers
,
once
,
through
his
dirty
hair
,
then
shielded
his
eyes
against
the
light
again
.
"
You
weren
’
t
insane
.
You
were
simply
doing
your
duty
.
You
killed
that
pussycat
in
as
manly
a
way
as
anybody
could
’
ve
under
the
circumstances
.
"
Clay
looked
at
him
suspiciously
.
"
What
the
hell
are
you
talkin
’
about
?
"
"
That
cat
was
a
spy
.
You
had
to
take
a
pot
shot
at
it
.
It
was
a
very
clever
German
midget
dressed
up
in
a
cheap
fur
coat
.
So
there
was
absolutely
nothing
brutal
,
or
cruel
,
or
dirty
,
or
even
—
"
"
God
damn
it
!
"
Clay
said
,
his
lips
thinned
.
"
Can
’
t
you
ever
be
sincere
?
"
X
suddenly
felt
sick
,
and
he
swung
around
in
his
chair
and
grabbed
the
wastebasket
—
just
in
time
.
When
he
had
straightened
up
and
turned
toward
his
guest
again
,
he
found
him
standing
,
embarrassed
,
halfway
between
the
bed
and
the
door
.
X
started
to
apologize
,
but
changed
his
mind
and
reached
for
his
cigarettes
.
"
C
’
mon
down
and
listen
to
Hope
on
the
radio
,
hey
,
"
Clay
said
,
keeping
his
distance
but
trying
to
be
friendly
over
it
.
"
It
’
ll
do
ya
good
.
I
mean
it
.
"
"
You
go
ahead
,
Clay
.
.
.
.
I
’
ll
look
at
my
stamp
collection
.
"
"
Yeah
?
You
got
a
stamp
collection
?
I
didn
’
t
know
you
—
"
"
I
’
m
only
kidding
.
"
