"You'd better go. You'd better dress and leave at once, Honey. Here." He gathered her clothes from the floor, depositing them beside her on the couch. "There are pins in the tray on the table, Pat. Fix yourself up as well as you can, dear—and hurry out of here!"
He turned toward the door as if to leave, and a shock of terror shook her.
"Nick!" she cried. "Don't go away! I'm more afraid when I can't see you—afraid that he—" She broke off sobbing.
"All right, Honey. I'll turn my back."
She slipped out from under the blanket, found the pins, and repaired her ruined costume. The frock was torn, crushed and bedraggled; she pinned it together at the throat, though her trembling fingers made the task difficult. She pulled it on and took a tentative step toward the door.
"Nick!" she called as a wave of dizziness sent her swaying against the wall.
"What's the matter, Honey?" He turned anxiously at her cry.
"I'm dizzy," she moaned. "My head aches, and—I'm scared!"
"Pat, darling! You can't go out alone like this—and," he added miserably, "I can't take you!" He slipped his arm around her tenderly, supporting her to the couch. "Honey, what'll we do?"
"I'll be—all right," she murmured. "I'll go in a moment." The dizziness was leaving her; strength was returning.