2
He turned away, glad that she had been so sane—and sorry. Angry at her, for no reason. Happy that he was going home to Rose-Ann—to Rose-Ann, lovely and real now in his mind—out of all this madness!
He commenced to whistle tunelessly....
And then, as if brought by the night-breeze, a breath of dream-nostalgia overwhelmed him, making him dizzy and faint. He stopped, trembling all over....
By God, he must get over this.... He must get back to reality.
And Rose-Ann must help him. He would tell her everything.... He opened the door of the studio and cried out her name, like a frightened child come back to its mother.
“Yes?” she called back. She was sitting up in bed, sewing spangles on her costume for the ball tomorrow night.
He suddenly realized that everything was all right—that there was nothing to tell.