He finally mustered enough strength to look over at his wife. She was sitting back in her plush chair, utterly beaten. He glanced around the theater. The other first-nighters were sitting in attitudes ranging from glassy-eyed exhaustion to complete nervous breakdown.
"The second part of the program will begin in three minutes," the pleasant voice said.
"Oh, no it won't!" Hendriks muttered out loud. His voice sounded like a harsh croak in his ears. He seized his wife by the hand; she felt cold, clammy.
"Let's go, Dot. Let's get out of here."
She came to life and nodded in silent agreement. Weakly they tottered down the vast aisle, past the pretty near-nude usherettes, through the huge vestibule, out into the coolness of the night air and the relative peace of the city.
There were still some people gathered outside.
"How is it? Real nice?"
"Is it over?"
"Hey, you leavin' so soon?"
Hendriks ignored them. He hailed a jetcab, helped his wife in, staggered in himself. He gave the driver his address.