He found the light and shone it on her face. It was good to look at, that face, but it wasn't at all familiar. He had trouble keeping his eyes from straying. Her dress was torn, and what she wore underneath was torn too.  
"Seen enough?" she asked coldly.
 
"Put that way, I haven't." He couldn't force his voice to be matter-of-fact—it wouldn't behave.
 
She stared angrily at the light in her eyes. "I knew you'd be back," she said. "I thought I could get you before you got me, but you're too fast." Her mouth trembled. "This time make it permanent. I don't want to be tormented again like this."He let her go and sat up. He was trembling, too, but not for the same reason. He turned the light away from her eyes.
 
"Ever consider that you could be mistaken?" he asked. "You're not the only one it happens to."
 
She lay there blinking at him, eyes adjusting to the changed light. She fumbled at the torn dress, which wouldn't stay where she put it. "You too?" she said with a vast lack of surprise. "When?"
 
"They found me here two weeks ago. This is the first time I've come back."
 
"Patterns," she said. "There are always patterns in what we do." Her attitude toward him had changed drastically, he could see it in her face. "I've been out three weeks longer." She sat up and leaned closer. She didn't seem to be thinking about the same things that had been on her mind only seconds before.
 
He stood up and helped her to her feet. She was near and sho............