Wilfred’s arms relaxed. Startled, he tossed his head up, and stared into the dark. Masterful! Of course, when one didn’t give a damn! What a horrid joke this business . . . !
However, there she waited, expectant. And after all she was very sweet. One couldn’t be wretched all the time. Here was a drug for wretchedness. He kissed her again.
“What was the matter?” she whispered.
“I thought I heard something,” he said with a lip that curled in self-mockery.
“We are quite safe,” she whispered, wreathing her white arms around his neck.
IX
—— Hospital,
St. Louis.
Dear Wilfred:
I came here because it was a good way off, and I wanted to make a clean break with everything.