Hank did not answer, but took a quick step toward Guy,  reached round his legs with arms extended like the long horns of a Texas steer, and lifted him bodily off the ground and began carrying Guy toward the spacious  open bay windows. Hank's intention to throw Guy out the second story window was an obvious foregone conclusion.

A figure quietly entered the house . It was Mamie Van Doren's husband, Ray Anthony! Guy stopped writhing.

Mamie turns around and faces the shadowy figure.

"Paul's brow pulled downward as he half smiled at Guy.

When the thief saw Guy in hot pursuit, he turned as he continued running, pointed the gun toward Guy and yelled, "Stop or I'll shoot!" and kept running faster.

"He said I'd have to take them off before he'd let me go to the bathroom. I knew I had to stay calm or he'd probably kill me, so I calmly slipped my panties off and walked calmly into the bathroom.

 There was no lock on the door, just a little slide latch, but there was high, small window that was opened. I ran some water in the basin and quietly climbed up on the sink and pulled myself through the window feet first. When I looked down at the concrete two stories below, I hesitated. But when I heard the door crash open behind me, I let go of the window sill."

The B.M.'s philosophy was to put together any sequence of dance poses that he thought were popular. His instructions were always prefaced with a commercial.

The B.M. proceeded to demonstrate the arabesque, the plié, curtsying and bowing, with toes pointed, arms extended and wrists hanging limply, giving a running dialogue as he demonstrated his series of statuesque postures with his upper dental plate protruding and his tongue covering his slobbering lower lip.

The execution of the ballet poses, with his bandy bowed legs, hooked nose, and non proportioned body parts, was his attempt to render the grace of a prima ballerina  without the tutu. Instead his antics resulted in exemplifying the ludicrous awkwardness of a genetic throwback from the "gargoyle age" trying desperately to evolve.

Without ever having exchanged a word with Beverly, Guy and Kitty returned to their motel, where Guy, in his depression, cried and threw himself on the bed fully clothed. Kitty stripped naked and offered to console Guy with her body as she climbed into his bed. But as attractive and sensuous as Kitty was, Guy was so in love with Beverly that he had no desire for sex. Tomorrow they would drive back to Hollywood, but Guy knew he had to see Beverly one last time before he left.

Guy sees that Ruby had succumbed to the mesmerizing soft sound of rain, and was peacefully sleeping. Quietly, he slips out of bed, takes his clothes into the bathroom where he dresses. Cautiously shutting the bathroom light before exiting, and by the few rays of light washing in from the outside street lamp, he finds his way to the bungalow's kitchen which lay in darkness, and heads toward the front door.

Guy is only a few steps away from the door when he sees Ruby in deep shadow, standing in front of it. At her waist level, pointed straight at Guy's midsection, is a large silver bladed knife, glistening in the stray rays of gypsy light.

The super disappears momentarily to fetch the master key. when he returns, followed by his obese wife, Guy sees he has only one arm. As the super walks the short distance to Ruby's apartment, he admonishes Guy.

As the door is unlocked, Guy pushes the one-armed man to the side, onto his obese wife, and rushes into the darkened room lit only by the muted TV screen. He sees Ruby disappear into the bedroom beyond as Tommy Thompson stands up next to a couch, with arms extended outward in Christ-like innocence. Guy throws a fist into Tommy's jaw that sends him reeling back onto the divan, and without breaking his stride, goes into the bedroom where Ruby is cowering in a corner.  Guy slaps her once, knocking her off her feet, turns and leaves...
 

Photo of Tommy Thompson taken 16 years after The Dancer threw his fist into Tommy's jaw, taken by Joe Lanza at the 1972 Cannes Film Festival, Cannes, France.

"I finally hit the bottom of the barrel, hon. I worked all night in Chinatown for five bucks a trick. I hit bottom, hon. I swore I would never work in a whorehouse. You want to hear something funny? Today is my birthday. I'm 28 years old today...but I can't live another day without love."