Wilder was silent. They were going up Broadway in an endless procession of cabs and cars. Out of every building more and more people were pouring, going home. Perhaps, for some of them, home was not a joke.
Trust life? Just go ahead, and take the things that belong to youth? Not to be so bitterly afraid of being disillusioned and disappointed, but to trust life—and trust this girl? Didn’t he know by this time how faithful, honest, and kind she was?
“Could you rent one of those love nests?” she asked.
His heart stood still for a moment.
“I could buy one, on easy terms,” he said.
“I mean could any one—could I rent one?”
“You?”
“Yes,” she said. “You see, Leonard, I’ve been thinking. I’d like a little house.”
He reached out for her hand, and took it, and she did not draw it away.
“Vi!” he said.