He tried to laugh derisively, but she saw the slow red creep to his face and knew that she had scored.
“I hope you’ll feel better when you come back from your mother’s,” he said. “You haven’t been very good company lately. Oh, by the way, where did you say you are going?”
“I didn’t say,” she replied.
“Won’t you give me your address?” he demanded.
“No.”
“But suppose something happens? Suppose I want to get word to you?” Crumb insisted.
“You’ll have to wait until I get back,” she told him.
“I don’t see why you can’t tell me where you’re going,” he grumbled.
“Because there is a part of my life that you and your sort have never entered,” she replied. “I would as lief take a physical leper to my mother as a moral one. I cannot even discuss her with you without a feeling that I have besmirched her.”
On her face was an expression of unspeakable disgust as she passed through the doorway of the bungalow and closed the door behind her. Wilson Crumb simulated a shudder.