(Looking at watch, startled.)
Quarter to twelve! I must go, Mrs. Eppingwell. Good-by.
(He starts toward door at heels of Freda, who leads him by a couple of steps.)
MRS. EPPINGWELL
Shame on you,
(Freda glances back and smiles a hard smile.)
FREDA MOLOOF.
(Calling softly.)
Floyd!
(Vanderlip hesitates. Freda turns her face, blazingly imperious, upon him, and he slinks on after her. Dead silence.)