Tears were streaming and leaving their ravages on the smooth surface of her cheeks.
"I just wish I—I was dead."
"Aw, no, you don't! There's him now, with a horn on his auto that makes a noise like the devil yelling! There's your little rat-eyed, low-lived fellow, now. You don't wish you was dead now, do you? Go to him and his two divorces and his little roundhead. That's where you belong; that's where girls on the road to the devil belong—with them kind. There he is now, waiting to ride you to the devil. He don't need to honk-honk so loud; he knows you're ready and waiting for him."
Miss Barnet fastened on her little hat with fingers that fumbled.
"Gimme—the key."
"Aw, no, you don't. When you come home tonight you knock; no more tiptoe, night-key business like last time. I knew you was lying to me about the clock."
"You gimme that key. I don't want you to have to get up, with all your kicking, to open the door for me. You gimme the key."
"If you wanna get in this room when you come home to-night, you knock like any self-respecting girl ain't afraid to do."
"You—oh—you!" With a shivering intake of breath Miss Barnet flung wide the door, slamming it after her until the windows and the blue-glass vase on the mantelpiece and Miss Worte, stretched full length on the bed, shivered.
Two flights down she flung open the front door. There came from the curb the bleat of a siren, wild for speed.