“Good-by,” Nancy said to his retreating shoulder.
At her own front door was Dick’s big Rolls-Royce, and Dick sitting inside of it, with his feet comfortably up, feigning sleep.
“You didn’t think I’d go home until I saw 67 you safe inside your own door, did you?” he demanded.
“Where’s Betty?” Nancy asked mechanically.
“I sent Williams home with her. Then he came back here, and left the car with me.”
“You needn’t have waited,” Nancy said, “I’m sorry, Dick, I—I had to have air. I had to get out. I couldn’t stay inside a minute longer.”
“You need never explain anything to me.”
“Don’t you want to know where I’ve been?”
Dick looked at her carefully before he made his answer. Then he said firmly.
“No, dear.”