She was a bit jealous of those stars. It had been when with her that he had first seen them.
“You aren’t looking,” he complained.
She turned her eyes to the sky. To her they seemed farther away than ever.
“Maybe Frances is looking at those same stars,” he said.
She resented the suggestion. She turned her eyes back to the street.
“Where’s the star I gave you?” he asked.
“It’s gone,” she answered.
“Have you lost it?”
“I can’t see it.”
“Now, look here,” he chided her lightly. “I don’t call that very nice. You don’t have a star given you every night.”