A taxi whose driver evidently had been watching me in the hope of a fare rolled up beside me.
I dived into it gratefully. At least in its shelter I would be alone and safe from observation for a few minutes, long enough for me to decide what to do next.
"Where to, ma'am?"
I searched my memory wildly for a moment. Where to, indeed! But the chauffeur waited.
"Brooklyn Bridge," I said desperately.
"Very well, ma'am," and in another minute we were speeding swiftly southward.
As I cowered against the cushions of the taxi, with burning cheeks and crushed spirit, I realized that my marriage with Dicky was not a yoke that I could wear or not as I pleased. It was still on my shoulders, heavy just now, but a burden that I realized I loved and could not live without.
And I had thought to end it all when I dashed out of the apartment!
I knew that I could have done nothing else but walk out after Dicky uttered his humiliating ultimatum. But I also knew Dicky well enough to realize that when he came to himself he would regret what he had done and try to find me. I must make it an easy task for him.
So I decided my destination quickly. I would go to my old boarding place, where my mother and I had lived and where I had first met Dicky. My kindly old landlady, Mrs. Stewart, was one of my best friends. Without telling too broad a falsehood, I could make her believe I had come to spend the night with her. The next day, I hoped, would solve its own problems.