Lying on her side she watches his heavy body move against the milky light of the window. At last his teeth chattering he comes back to her. “I cant fix the goddam thing.... Kerist it’s cold.”
“Never mind Dick, come on to bed.... It must be late. I got to be up there at eight.”
He pulls his watch from under the pillow. “It’s half after two.... Hello kitten.”
On the ceiling she can see reflected the changing glare of the electric signs, white, red, green, then a jumble like a bubble bursting, then again white, green, red.
“An he didn’t even invite me to the wedding.... Honestly Florence I could have forgiven him if he’d invited me to the wedding,” she said to the colored maid when she brought in the coffee. It was a Sunday morning. She was sitting up in bed with the papers spread over her lap. She
was looking at a photograph in a rotogravure section labeled Mr. and Mrs. Jack Cunningham Hop Off for the First Lap of Their Honeymoon on his Sensational Seaplane Albatross VII. “He looks handsome dont he?”
“He su’ is miss.... But wasn’t there anything you could do to stop ’em, miss?”
“Not a thing.... You see he said he’d have me committed to an asylum if I tried.... He knows perfectly well a Yucatan divorce isn’t legal.”
Florence sighed.