A Big Man with the Girls

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BART MANDELL was not, really, a jealous man; he'd been around enough to know it didn't pay. But he'd been around enough, too, to understand Sally.

She was a sweet kid: pretty as a sweetpea from the neck up, and absolutely terrific all the way down. Faithful, and loyal, and loving, too. But a party girl, always on the move, fast on her feet and quick with a quip. Not the sitting-home type at all.

Which explains why Bart decided that two hours sleep would have to do him.

He hadn't seen Sally for forty-eight hours—not singe the search began; that was just about twenty-eight hours too long, and the last time he called she'd sounded pretty much indifferent to whether she ever saw him again. He had eight hours and that was all, before he had to go back out with the search party again. So he caught a fast couple of hours of sacktime, washed the sleep out of his system in the sharp spray of the shower, and started down to her house.

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