| OCR Text |
Show 79 "It tried to kick me," she cried. "Are you hurt?" "No." "Then come on." With each step the canvas bags slammed against his hips and the straps dug deeper into his shoulders. He didn't stop when he heard one of the seams in the faded yellow bag give way, but unfastened his belt, slid it from his waist and cinched it over the widening split. They were halfway down the steps when his mind was jarred by the sudden absence of a sound behind him. Darcy's footsteps. Turning around he saw her sitting on a step, her body sagging forward and her head between her knees. "What's wrong now, for chrissake?" "My sandal, it broke." "Take if off." "The steps are covered with donkey shit." "No worse than mud." "I have to rest." "Move, goddamnit." "I'm afraid. I'll fall." David started back up the steps, to drag her on if he had to, but she rose when she saw him coming. She steadied herself on the railing, pulled off the broken sandal and flung it to the sea. She took a step down. Their dirty faces met, a foot apart. "Why have you done this?" she said. "I haven't done a thing. Your sandal broke, that's all. Would |
