"No, my good friend."
"Why not?" He stood over her, ugly, masterful.
Her smile softened to a sweet, sad flutter of lip.
"You know why."
"Nonsense!"
"You can't bully me any more, David," she told him gently. "That's the tragic part of it," she added under her breath. She liked David, but she wished he would go. She wished they would all go. It must be very late.
It was still later, however, before the last guest departed. That last guest was Frances Maury, escorted by a glum David. Oliver had kept her on.
"Myra and I always get to bed so early that it's a relief to stay up for once," he had said.
"Of course it's much more sensible to go to bed early." Miss Maury's voice did not sound as if sensible things appealed to her.
"Oliver has to be at his office so early in the morning," Myra put in almost as an apology.