“Did I? ... I can’t ... I don’t seem to remember. What were the grounds? I thought in New York State you had to prove——”
Martin leaned forward in his seat and stared at her through the dimness in the car, trying to see her face.
“Say, what is this?” he asked. “Are you trying to kid me,—rub it in, or something like that?”
“No, Martin,” she answered earnestly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never supposed we’d been divorced.”
“Good God! Did you think we were still married?”
“Why, certainly.”
The man dropped back against the upholstery with a short explosion of breath.
“Tell me about it, Martin.”
“You make it damned hard, Jan. If you’re trying to rub it in, you’re certainly doing a nifty job.”
“No, Martin, truly. I’m quite honest.”