"What, here? You'll come here?"
"Yes."
"You'll come back here?"
"Yes."
"You promise?"
"Yes, if you will go and have some dinner. You look perfectly ghastly."
"Dinner? All right, I'll have some."
"Mind you do. If you haven't by the time I get back, I'll go straight home again and never marry you as long as I live. Good-bye, darling, I must be off."
The two-seater moved away and turned into Washington Square. George stood looking after it long after there was nothing to look at but empty street. Then he started off, like some knight of old on a quest commanded by his lady, to get the dinner on which she had so strongly insisted. She had been wrong, of course, in telling him to go and dine: for what he wanted to do and what any good doctor would have recommended him to do was to return to the roof and gaze at the moon. But her lightest wish was law.
Where could he go most quickly and get the repulsive task done with the minimum waste of time?