She went furiously fast, and they didn’t exchange a word all the way to Sixth Avenue. She entered a brilliantly lighted shop with a white tiled floor and advanced to the high glass counter. And began ordering the most amazing list—soap, bread, pickles, salad, cake, bacon. It made a huge bundle. Landry tried to take it from her.
“No!” she said. “You said you were going home!”
“I’ll take you to the door first. Rosaleen, give me that package and don’t be so disagreeable! What’s the trouble?”
“I’m tired!” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be nasty, Mr. Landry!”
She let him take the bundle, and they began to retrace their steps.
“You are an extraordinary girl!” he said. “I can’t understand you. Do you always do your marketing a little before midnight?”
“I do it when I can!” she answered, with a sigh. “When I can get the money for it.”
“But—” he began, but stopped short. Had she got the money at that party? And from whom?
III
He couldn’t help talking about it. He began at breakfast the next morning, to his aunt.