‘Hmm… I feel especially honored, then.’ He pulled me close to him and kissed me. ‘I’ll never see you again…’ ‘You don’t know that. H...y, if you ever make it back to America, just look me up.’ ‘You’re always traveling, you’re never home.’ ‘Just look me up, find my place in Harlem… send me a postcard from there, and stay there until I get back.’ ‘I bet you say that to all the girls…’ ‘No, just you, Sweetcakes.’ ‘Why do I get the feeling that you move around a lot?’ I smiled again, letting him. ‘Miss Starling?’ She saw the stranger walk up to her quickly through half open eyes and he knelt down beside her. He looked at her face. ‘You’re ill.’ She closed her eyes and slumped further down from her weakness, landing in his arms. She felt herself being lifted and carried across a distance. She felt that he stopped and she was lowered onto a soft mattress. The next thing she remembered feeling a cool, wet cloth being dabbed around her face and neck. She felt too awful to tell him to leave. More

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