He nodded and groaned, without looking at her.
"Able to go home yet?"
"In a minute," he said drearily.
"Where do you live?" she persisted.
He waved a hand indifferently westward. "Over there—Ninety-sixth Street."
"Think you'll be able to walk it?"
"Oh, I'm all right now." He groaned again, and leaned forward, elbow on knee, forehead in his hand. "I feel like hell," he muttered.
"The best thing for you is to get to bed and get some sleep," said the girl, stirring restlessly.
He snapped crossly: "Wait a minute, can't you?"
She subsided.