"I was feeling so good," she said.
"Benevolent is the word." Ralph did not look at her, his mouth tight. "Ben-ev-o-lent. I suppose this all comes from me watching him through that knothole, getting my kicks? That why you sent the mirror? People like you run around with tambourines, taking the joy out of my life."
"Remind me not to come to your place for drinks any more. I'd rather go with no people at all than mean people."
Ralph exhaled a deep breath. "Aimee, Aimee. Don't you know you can't help that guy? He's bats. And this crazy thing of yours is like saying, Go ahead, be batty, I'll help you, pal."
"Once in a lifetime anyway, it's nice to make a mistake if you think it'll do somebody some good," she said.
"God deliver me from do-gooders, Aimee."
"Shut up, shut up!" she cried, and then said nothing more.
He let the silence lie awhile, and then got up, putting his finger-printed glass aside. "Mind the booth for me?"
"Sure. Why?"
She saw ten thousand cold white images of him stalking down the glassy corridors, between mirrors, his mouth straight and his fingers working themselves.
She sat in the booth for a full minute and then suddenly shivered. A small clock ticked in the booth and she turned the deck of cards over, one by one, waiting. She heard a hammer pounding and knocking and pounding again, far away inside the Maze; a silence, more waiting, and then ten thousand images folding and refolding and dissolving, Ralph striding, looking out at ten thousand images of her in the booth. She heard his quiet laughter as he came down the ramp.
"Well, what's put you in such a good mood?" she asked, suspiciously.
"Aimee," he said, carelessly, "we shouldn't quarrel. You say tomorrow Billie's sending that mirror to Mr. Big's?"
"You're not going to try anything funny?"
"Me?" He moved her out of the booth and took over the cards, humming, his eyes bright. "Not me, oh no, not me." He did not look at her, but started quickly to slap out the cards. She stood behind him. Her right eye began to twitch a little. She folded and unfolded her arms. A minute ticked by. The only sound was the ocean under the night pier, Ralph breathing in the heat, the soft ruffle of the cards. The sky over the pier was hot and thick with clouds. Out at sea, faint glows of lightning were beginning to show.
"Ralph," she said at last.
"Relax, Aimee," he said.
"About that trip you wanted to take down the coast"
"Tomorrow," he said. "Maybe next month. Maybe next year. Old Ralph Banghart's a patient guy. I'm not worried, Aimee. Look." He held up a hand. "I'm calm."
