“After supper I’ll stop at his home—I’ll give him a message for you.”
“Don’t bother, James, but thanks just the same.”
On the street, the warm sunshine enveloped her like a cloud. She raged at herself, at her father. Why couldn’t he tell those stuffed shirts—And Karl? Well, he just decided I couldn’t get away—and, of course, nobody could use the phone. She tried not to feel hurt, yet he could have waited a little longer.
Her dress looked squashed, the collar itched, her throat felt parched. She was tired, too. All that useless running and waiting—and hungry. She always felt hungry when she was miserable.
“No, I won’t go home and sit around while Father cynically probes, ‘Why back so soon?’”
She opened her bag, powdered her shiny nose, wiped the perspiration from her neck and face. A look into her change purse fortified her.
“I’m going to get the biggest chocolate fudge whipped cream ice cream soda I can buy!”
She walked on aimlessly until she recognized the Cafe and Snack Bar they’d visited the exciting night of the Juillard Concert. It seemed so long ago! How happy she had been, sitting next to Karl—Lynne and Allen, her mother and father—everyone so gay.
She stepped up to the entrance and looked in at the curtained window. It was empty, except for a waiter. No, there in a far corner a table glittered with silver and glassware, a teapot, cups and saucers. And there—coming to the table was Karl! What heavenly luck! How surprised he’ll be when he sees me! At that moment Marian sat down, some music sheets in her hand. Judy stood there ashamed, unable to move! Their heads were close together. Marian was laughing—and Karl looked, yes, looked adoringly into her eyes, just as he looked at Judy at times. She tore herself away.
She walked woodenly on the familiar and often dearly loved streets and at last stumbled home, bone tired.