“I don’t suppose we ever will,” Peggy said. “And it’s probably just as well. There’s something a little weird about it!”
Then, on common impulse, they recited in chorus the witches’ lines from Macbeth, only changing the “three” to “two.”
“When shall we two meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?”
And with laughter and witchlike cackles, they said good night.
The next week flew by in a continual round of farewells, packing, endless talk in the Sweet Shop about acting and the life Peggy would be leading in New York and, the night before her departure, a big farewell party at Jean’s house. It was a tired Peggy, glad to be on her way at last, who found herself once more at the airport with her parents. But this time, she was to fly alone.
“Are you sure you packed everything?” her mother asked for perhaps the tenth time.
“Positive,” Peggy assured her.
“And you know how to get from the airport to Gramercy Park?” her father asked, also for perhaps the tenth time.
“I’ll never forget!” Peggy laughed.
“Well...” Mrs. Lane said.