After the trouble at Merchants National Bank, Patch sells his car and goes quiet. For a month he works hauling freight, waking at four in the morning to load frozen meat onto trucks, while living in a rented room he pays for in cash because the landlady distrusts him on sight.

Patch's life narrows into labor, darkness, and restless searching. He can only sleep after sealing out every trace of light, stripping the room nearly bare, and making it feel controlled enough for rest. Even then, the nights when he finds the woman he is chasing in his dreams or thoughts come less often, which makes time itself feel like pressure pushing him forward.

During this pause, Patch watches for women who resemble the one he seeks. He approaches a few college girls with similar hair or voices, questions them about their pasts, and quickly realizes they are not connected to his search. Because those encounters lead nowhere, he slips away before morning and remains emotionally detached.

When Patch returns one day to find his bag on the stoop, the landlady has thrown him out because of what he has done to the room. That forces another move. Patch then deliberately slows his hunt, believing his remaining luck cannot survive being pushed too hard.

In Gloucester, Patch takes rough work at a marina, asking trawler crews for any labor they will give him. He cleans lines, guts bait, sets traps, sorts lobsters, and learns the rhythm of the boat under Skip's direction. Some of the men mock his eye patch, but the work briefly gives him structure, and on his first trip he even finds himself smiling.

That small relief does not last into companionship. Back at the marina, while the others drink together, Patch stays on the boat and drinks alone, watching the sunset. He sleeps on the beach, eats too little, and saves what he can because he knows this stop is temporary and that he will soon move on again toward the woman he still intends to find.