I picked this book up at the railway station lending library this morning and it fell open at the following, deathless excerpt.
“Don’t rush me, darling,” she said. “You’re a dreadful cold-blooded, ruthless person, but I had to find you tonight. Do you understand? You’re the only person I’d care to be with tonight, whatever happens.”
“Sure,” I said. “I don’t think much of you, either, glamor girl. You’re unreliable and treacherous and arrogant and selfish. If you happen to think a man’s done you a bad turn, you can’t even be trusted tied hand and foot. You’re mean and vengeful, and the only reason I love you is that I can’t hurt you, and even if I do you’ve had it coming for years. Besides, I know you’ll always get back at me somehow.”
She was smiling happily at the end of this recital. “But you do love me, don’t you?”
“Hell,” I said. “You know I do.”
I want a blu-ray box set of Dean Martin’s Matt Helm movies right now. SORT IT OUT, BOFFINS!