“I’m going out,” she said.
“It’s nearly eleven. Where are you going?”
“Oh!... To the delicatessen!” she cried, with the first trace of irritability he had yet seen in her.
“Now?”
“Yes, now!” she cried, and he was amazed to see tears in her eyes. “Why do you bother me so? Let me alone!”
“I don’t want to bother you, Rosaleen,” he said. “But—if you’re going alone, let me come.”
“No,” she said. “You can’t. They’d all notice.”
“Let them! You surely don’t care for the opinion of that crew! And anyway, they’ll think I’ve gone home.”
She had got her hat on now.
“Come on, then!” she said, and led him through a door hidden by hanging coats and wraps, into the hall.