In a small, dark hotel room in Phoenix, Arizona, Marion Crane was looking atherself in the mirror. She was worried. Her hair was untidy and she was lategetting back to work. 'Don't go, Marion,' said a voice from behind her. Marion looked in the mirror at the young man who was sitting on the bed. Shesmiled at him sadly. 'I must get back to the office, Sam,' she said. 'My boss isbeginning to get worried about these long lunch-hours.' 'But it's Friday afternoon,' Sam said. 'I don't see you very often. Can't you stay?' 'When we're married,' Marion replied, walking across the room to pick up herhandbag. Sam jumped off the bed and stood behind her. He touched the side of her facesoftly with the back of his hand. 'Can I see you next week?' he said. 'Why?' she said, not looking at him. 'For another secret lunch, hoping thatnobody will see us together in a small, cheap hotel room? It's the same everyweek.' She turned to Sam, her eyes shining angrily. And then suddenly they softened.'Oh, Sam,' she said quietly. She rested her face in his hand as she looked up intohis eyes. 'Why can't we get married now? I want to be with you all the time. I wantto walk along the street with you so that everyone can see us together.' This time, Sam walked away. He stood alone by the window and looked down atthe hot, dry city. 'We can get married when I've paid off all my father's debts,' hesaid. 'I only need to pay another 11,000 dollars.' 'And how long will that take?' 'Two years, maybe three.' 'Oh, Sam,' Marion cried, throwing the handbag onto the bed and running tohold him. 'I can't wait three years. I don't care about the money.' She kissed hisface, but she was almost crying. 'I want to be with you. I'll leave my job. I'll comeand work in your shop.' 'Marion, please. You must understand. I don't want us to be poor when we getmarried. I want us to be happy. In three years' time, you'll be my wife—Mrs SamLoomis. I promise.' Marion sighed and turned round in his arms to rest her head against hisshoulder. 'In three years, I'll be twenty-nine,' she thought unhappily. Then she suddenly remembered that she was late for work. She left Sam by thewindow, picked up her bag and walked towards the door. 'I have to go, Sam,' shesaid again. 'I'm late. Mr Lowery will kill me.'
