“You look tired,” he added. “Would you like to go home? It’s pretty late.”
“Thank you, Blake,” she said coldly. “I don’t think that I want you to come with me.”
“Why not?” He suddenly thought he understood. “You don’t want me to come home any more?”
“Oh, don’t be dramatic. Go away, please. Don’t stop enjoying yourself.”
His anger with Janie burst out now. “You’re the one who’s being dramatic. Very well, I won’t come home.”
“That’s your own affair.” She opened her fan and started to wave it delicately. “Mother....”
“Blake, please. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
He muttered, “No we won’t,” and started away, feeling decidedly ill with passion. On his way to the door he blundered into Mrs. Lyons, who stopped him.
“So you’re leaving us?” She smiled down at him with her customary indiscriminate fondness for youth.
He managed to collect his manners, saying politely, “It’s a nice party, but I’m sleepy.”