“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“And you heard?”
“Tonight.”
“Then he did leave you.”
“Don’t, Rex—he never loved me, and I—I never really loved him. I found that out.”
“When did you find it out?”
“One day—you know when—in a—a cab.”
“Dear Yvonne,” he whispered, “can’t you go back to—to your family?”
“No, Rex.”