It came to this — that if they were to do it, then it had to be his way, and soon she resented and even hated him for it. After some attempts she would not see him again, and the word had gone around among the girls that Ben was funny, there was something not quite right with him.

With this girl, Rita, he knew she liked him, and had liked what he did.

A bell rang, or rather hummed from the wall. This was a signal that there was a customer, and that Johnston was downstairs, and in control. She got up, pressed the bell, and said to Ben, 'You've got to go now.'

'Why?' he said. He had not understood at all. He only knew she liked him.

'Because I say so,' she said, as if to a child, thinking that she could not remember talking to a customer like this before. 'Go away.' And then she added, 'If you like, you can come again — in the morning, mind you.' And she pushed him out of the room, and he went down her ugly stairs, zipping himself up, as men so often did on them.

On the pavement a tall rough-looking man took a good sharp look at him, and then looked again — people always looked again.

That was his first visit to Rita and next morning he had gone again. Meanwhile she had told Johnston about him. They were lying on her bed, smoking, very late, after all the minicab custom had ceased. He was her protector, and took a cut, but was not jealous, and was even good to her in a casual careless way. He had examined the bruised places on her neck: teeth marks were visible. He had heard a detailed account of the sex. This was because she wanted to talk about it, he was usually not interested. She had told him it hadn't been like being with a man, more like an animal. 'You know, like dogs.'

'But you like him,' Johnston had said, so that she should mark it and remember that he knew. He was feeling something he believed was not jealousy, more curiosity.