She swallowed.
“Oh, Lily, all I ask for is the chance now and then, whenever you’re down in the mouth—and all of us must feel like that, unless we think we’re the whole cheese and absolutely own the gospel game!—whenever you feel that way, lemme have the privilege of telling you how greatly one fellow appreciates the loveliness that you scatter along the road!”
“Do you really feel that way? Maybe I can play the piano, but personally I’m nothing . . . nothing.”
“It isn’t true, it isn’t true, dearest! Lily! It’s so like your modesty to not appreciate what sunshine you bring into the hearts of all of us, dear, and how we cherish—”
The door shot open. In the doorway stood Sharon Falconer in a black-and-gold dressing-gown.
“Both of you,” said Sharon, “are discharged. Fired. Now! Don’t ever let me see your faces again. You can stay tonight, but see to it that you’re out of the house before breakfast.”
“Oh, Miss Falconer—” Lily wailed, thrusting away Elmer’s hand. But Sharon was gone, with a bang of the door. They rushed into the hall, they heard the key in her lock, and she ignored their rapping.
Lily glared at Elmer. He heard her key also, and he stood alone in the hall.
IV
Not till one in the morning, sitting in flabby dejection, did he have his story shaped and water-tight.