For days I had not seen her. Each consciously avoided the other. Yet a good deal of what Molly had said haunted me: I could not depart without some explanation. We left Sunday. Friday afternoon I called her up on the telephone, and asked if I might come over,—a strange conversation, full of long pauses and hesitations, where I could not see her face and could only wonder.
“I am going Sunday—you know?”
“Yes, I know.”
“And I really would like to see you before then.”
“But, David, I’m leaving in an hour.”
Curiously enough, this upset me more than I would have thought.
“Leaving? Where?” I asked stupidly.
There was a long silence.
“Anne!”
“Yes?”