“I want to leave,” Audrey said. “I’ve got Dan’s car. Oh, Jimmie, I wish you had knocked! I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for thinking I might have been—laughing.”
“You going to Dan’s still? It’s late.”
“I live there.”
“ Live there!”
She walked across the foyer. The doorman produced her raincoat and umbrella.
“Certainly. We’ve kept it quiet, but it’s bound to spread around, sometime. Didn’t you see the affectionate regard with which Dad greeted me? Didn’t I tell you he’d throw me out for seeing you? Well, I told him I was going to—and he did throw me out. So Dan and Adele have given me sanctuary. And Mother, I understand, has taken to her bed.”
Jimmie said, “Hey! Wait! You can’t leave now!”
She smiled and whispered, “Night, Jimmie.” The man opened the big front door.
Wind skirled like bagpipes. Her skirts rippled. A sheet of rain splashed across the porch.
The door closed with a solemn bang.