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"
"Very well. Thank you. Is - wasn't there something else, too?"
"Something else?"
"You are angry, aren't you?"
He hesitated.
"Surprised. Not angry. I haven't any possible right to be angry."
"Will you come up and let me tell you about it, Clay?"
"I don't see how that will help any."
"It will help me."
He laughed at that; her new humility was so unlike her.
"Why, of course I'll come, Audrey," he said, and as he rang off he
was happier than he had been all day.
He was coming. Audrey moved around the little room, adjusting
chairs, rearranging the flowers that had poured in on New-year's
day, brushing the hearth. And as she worked she whistled. He
would be getting into the car now. He would be so far on his way.
He would be almost there. She ran into her bedroom and powdered
her nose, with her lips puckered, still whistling, and her heart
singing.
But he scolded her thoroughly at first.
"Why on earth did you do it," he finished. "I still can't
understand.


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