Robert Holton waved to Marjorie Ventusa. She came over to their table slowly. She didn’t want him to leave any sooner than he had to.
“Got my check, Marjorie?”
“I’ll get it for you.” She went to the cashier and had his check totalled for him. Then she brought it back and he paid her, leaving a ten-cent tip under his water glass.
Caroline stood up and put her gray coat about her shoulders. Robert Holton picked up his trench coat and slung it over his arm.
“I’ll see you at lunch, Marjorie,” he said.
“See you,” said Marjorie Ventusa and she watched them as they went out the door into the bright autumn morning.
“Say, Marjorie,” said one of her regular customers, “how about some more coffee.”
“O.K., O.K.,” she said.
“When are you going to get those tables cleaned?” said Mrs Merrin who was back in Marjorie Ventusa’s corner. “I wish you’d try to get them done right after the customers leave. I wish you’d make some effort, Marjorie.”
“I’m sorry,” said Marjorie Ventusa.