"He was terrible, Graham. He accused me of all sorts of things,
about you."
He almost groaned aloud over the predicament he was in. It began
to look serious.
"Suppose I pick you up and we have dinner somewhere?"
"At the same corner?"
"Yes."
He was very irritable all morning. He felt as though a net was
closing in around him, and his actual innocence made him the more
miserable. Miss Peterson found him very difficult that day, and
shed tears in her little room before she went to lunch.
Anna herself was difficult that evening. Her landlady's son had
given up a good job and enlisted. Everybody was going. She
supposed Graham would go next, and she'd be left alone.
"I don't know. I'd like to."
"Oh, you'll go, all right. And you'll forget I ever existed." She
made an effort. "You're right, of course. I'm only looking ahead.
If anything happens to you, I'll kill myself."
The idea interested her. She began to dramatize herself, a forlorn
figure, driven from home, and deserted by her lover.
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