Duffy said, “’Bye,” and hung up. He walked across to the window and looked out, lifting the blue blind away from the window and peering round the side. The rain ran down the window. He could only see faintly the street light. He dropped the blind and went once more to the telephone. It began to ring. Its sudden violence startled him. He sat on edge of the bed and pulled the receiver towards him.
Alice’s voice said, “Oh, Bill.”
He said, “Why, for God’s sake! It’s nearly two o’clock. What makes you call at this time?”
She said, her voice uneven, “Sam just heard. They say there’s been shooting at the Bronx. I was so frightened. I thought something had happened to you.”
“Where’s Sam?”
“They called him up. He’s gone down to headquarters. You are all right?”
“Sure, I’m all right. There’s nothing to worry about.” He paused and then went on, “Listen, honey, you’re right. This is getting me nowhere. I’m quitting. I got nineteen grand salted away, and another little packet tomorrow, then I’m through. English is taking the heat off, and it’s going to turn out swell.”
She said, “I’m… I’m glad. It is all right, isn’t it, Bill?” He thought she was crying.
“You see,” he said, “tomorrow we’ll have a party. You and Sam and me. It’s going to be fine. And listen, I’m coming round in the afternoon, and you and me will go shopping. You can buy yourself the world. Doll yourself up and surprise Sam. How do you like that?”
She said, her voice still anxious, “I shan’t rest until you’re with us.”