"I ain't--ain't sore." "You are. You got a foolish idea in your head, Mil." "Why should I have an idea? I guess I'm getting all that's coming to me for--for forcing things." "Now, Mil, I bet anything you're still feeling sore about last night. Aren't you?" "Sore? It ain't my business, Phonzie, if you can stay out till one o'clock one night and the next want to begin the same thing over again." "We had to stick around last night, Mil. Gert was drawing off the models under her handkerchief and on the dance program. That's how we got the yellow charmeuse, just by keeping after it and drawing it line for line." "I know, I know." "Then give me a kiss and when I come back maybe--maybe I'll bring you a surprise up my sleeve, hon." She sat beside her cold meal, tears scratching her eyes like blown grit. "It's like I told you this morning, Phonzie; when you get tired, all you got to do is remember I got the new trunk standing right behind the cretonne curtains, and I can pack my duds any day in the week and find a welcome over at--at Ida May's." "Mil, ain't you ashamed!" "Why, I could pack up and--and find a welcome there right to-night, if the kid wasn't too little for the night air." "Mil, honest, I--I just don't know what to make of you. I--I've just lost my nerve about going now." "I'm not going to be the one to say stay." With his coat unhooked from the antlers and flung across his arm, he stood contemplating, a furrow of perplexity between his eyes. "If I--I hadn't promised--" "You go. I guess it won't be the last evening I spend alone." "Yes it will, hon." "I know, I know." He buttoned his coat and stooped over her, the smell of damp exuding from his clothes. "Just you lay down in the front room till I get back, Mil. Here, look at some of these new fashion books I brought home. I'll be back early, hon, and maybe wake you and the kid up with--with a surprise." "Quit!" "Just a French kiss, hon." She raised a cold face. He tilted her head backward and pressed his lips to hers, then went out, closing the door lightly behind him. For a breathing space she remained where he had left her, with her lips held in between her teeth and the sobbing breath fluttering in her throat. The pink rose lay on the table, its beautiful silk-velvet leaves concealing its cotton heart. She regarded it through a hot blur of tears that stung her eyeballs. Her throat grew tighter. Suddenly she sprang to her feet and to the hallway. A full-length coat hung from the antlers and a filmy scarf, carelessly flung. She slid into the coat, cramming the sleeves of her negligée in at the shoulders, wrapping the scarf about her head and knotting it at the throat in a hysteria of sudden decision. Then down the flight of stairs, her knees trembling as she ran. When she reached the bubbly sidewalk, cool rain slanted in her face. She gathered her strength and plunged against it.