The cab stopped. Lennox opened the door and got out. To Gabby he said: "Wait here for me. Understand? Wait." He turned and ran across the sidewalk to the open door of a Salvation Army Mission in a small store. There were candles burning in the window. He ducked into the store, removed two candles from the window, dropped a five dollar bill in their place, and ran back to the cab. He got in and shut the door. "All right, get going," he told the driver. He handed one of the burning candles to Gabby without a word. She smiled; that sudden dazzle of light on water, then her face lost its expression when she saw the cold fury in him. She shook her head. Lennox slid the glass partition panel aside. "Can you sing?" he asked the driver. "Sing Pop Goes The Weasel." "Have a heart, buddy." "'Pop Goes The Weasel' ... in the key of C. Take it." "That ain't no Christmas Carol." "And this ain't no Christmas present." Lennox poked a bill through the slit and dropped it. "Sing." The driver began a miserable croaking. Lennox sat back and eyed Gabby. She blew out her candle and turned her head away. He dropped his candle and trampled it. "Listen to me," he said. "My name is Jordan Lennox, I'm thirty-five years old. Unmarried. My income is thirty-five thousand a year. I have no family left, but the Islip YMCA director will provide a character reference. My blood type is O. My eyes are twenty-twenty. My I.Q. is a hundred and nineteen. I understand people, but I don't understand you. I would like permission to get to know you better. If necessary, this oral request can be followed by a formal letter from my attorney and a bond will be posted." The cab stopped before a squat studio building with great duplex windows, Lennox had the fare ready. He thrust it over the driver's shoulder, then helped Gabby out of the cab and with a fierce secret gesture signalled the driver to get lost. "Well?" he asked. She shook her head. He would not give up. He took her arm, escorted her the five steps to the doorway, thrust open the door and handed her through. "Why not?" he asked. "Goodnight." "Why not?" "You wouldn't understand." "Make me understand." "Goodnight." His fingers gripped her arm. "Make me understand." "What can I say? I thought you were somebody else. I thought...." "What?" "Once," she said slowly, "I had to study chemistry. And in the stockroom there was a glass jar filled with the most beautiful candy I ever saw. Then someone told me it was poison. Crystals of poison.... That's what happened." "Poison!" he exclaimed. "I'm poison to you?"