I had to pass her to close the door behind us, but when I kissed her again she protested that we were not really engaged.
I turned to look down at her. “It is a terrible thing,” I said exultantly, “to love a girl the way I love you, and to have only one arm!” Then I closed the door.
From across the street there came a sharp crescendo whistle, and a vaguely familiar figure separated itself from the park railing.
“Say,” he called, in a hoarse whisper, “shall I throw the key down the elevator shaft?”