he added. "I could have managed."
Her eyes were luminous in the Hght from the lamp. Her hair, almost white in its glow, was pulled straight back across her head and tied behind with a tiny ribbon. Her mouth was scarlet with Upstick, and full and shining. She sat motionlessly opposite him, still not speaking.
"Well?" he asked nastily. "Lost your tongue?"
"I came with you," she said quiedy. "I was going back with you."
A perverseness prompted his tongue. "Did you think I was going to take you back after what happened? That I would want to?"
She watched him silently, the pupils of her eyes growing large and black so that the irises almost seemed to disappear. That was the strangest thing about her. Her eyes always seemed to be speaking, yet he could never understand what they were saying.
"Did you?" he asked again.
She took a deep breath and silently got to her feet. She walked back to the chair in the comer, picked up her tiny purse, and started for the door. She didn't look at him.
He waited until she had her hand on the door before he spoke. "Marja!"
She stopped and looked down at him silently.
"Where are you going?" he asked unnecessarily.
"Home," she answered in a flat, expressionless voice. "You're okay now."
"Do you have carfare?"
"I can manage," she said in the same flat voice.
His hand moved swifdy, snatching the tiny purse from her grasp. "Where did you get money?" he asked coldly. "Francie said neither of you had a cent with you."
She didn't answer. The expression on her face didn't change. "I said I could manage," she repeated expression-lessly.
He opened the purse and looked into it. It was empty except for a lipstick, two sHghtly beaten cigarettes, a comb, and some wooden matches.
"Your wallet is under your pillow," she said quietly. "I put it there."
Instinctively he reached for it and flipped it open. The bills were still there. He began to feel ashamed of his suspicion.
"Now kin I have my bag back?" she asked. "I wanna get goin'. It's late."
He looked up at her, then down at her empty purse. He took a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and stuffed it into her purse. "Take a cab," he said, handing the purse back to her.
The ten-dollar bill fluttered back onto the bed. "No, thanks," she said dryly. "I don't want nothin' from you." The door closed behind her.
He sat there for a moment in surprise, then jumped to his feet. At the last second he realized that they had stripped the wet bathing-suit from him. Pulling the bedspread around him to hide his nakedness, he ran into the hall after her. "Marja!" he called. "Marja! Wait a minute!" He stumbled over the trailing bedspread and grabbed at the railing to keep from falling down the staircase.
She was already at the bottom of the steps when she turned to look back at him. She stared for a moment, then a smile spread across her face and she began to roar with laughter.
Her laughter floated mockingly up to him. He began to
I
get angry. "What the hell are you laughmg at?" he yelled.
She couldn't stop. "Look at yerself, Ross," she gasped, pointing. "You look like a pitcher of a ghost!"
He turned to the full-length mirror on the wall near him. His pale face and wild hair over the white bedspread did make him look Uke a ghost. He began to smile and then, laughing, turned back to her. "Give me time to get dressed, Marja," he said, "and I'll take you home."
"Better stop the car and let me out here," she said as they came to her corner. "My stepfather might be sittin' at the window."
Silently he pulled the car to the curb. He got out of the car and walked stiffly around it and opened her door. He held her hand as she stepped out.
They stood there awkwardly on the sidewalk for a moment, then she put out her hand. "Thanks for a nice time, Ross," she said poUtely.
He searched her eyes for a trace of sarcasm, but there was none. He took her hand. "Will I see you again, Marja?'* he asked.
Her hand was quiet in his. "If you want," she answered.
He put
Her eyes were luminous in the Hght from the lamp. Her hair, almost white in its glow, was pulled straight back across her head and tied behind with a tiny ribbon. Her mouth was scarlet with Upstick, and full and shining. She sat motionlessly opposite him, still not speaking.
"Well?" he asked nastily. "Lost your tongue?"
"I came with you," she said quiedy. "I was going back with you."
A perverseness prompted his tongue. "Did you think I was going to take you back after what happened? That I would want to?"
She watched him silently, the pupils of her eyes growing large and black so that the irises almost seemed to disappear. That was the strangest thing about her. Her eyes always seemed to be speaking, yet he could never understand what they were saying.
"Did you?" he asked again.
She took a deep breath and silently got to her feet. She walked back to the chair in the comer, picked up her tiny purse, and started for the door. She didn't look at him.
He waited until she had her hand on the door before he spoke. "Marja!"
She stopped and looked down at him silently.
"Where are you going?" he asked unnecessarily.
"Home," she answered in a flat, expressionless voice. "You're okay now."
"Do you have carfare?"
"I can manage," she said in the same flat voice.
His hand moved swifdy, snatching the tiny purse from her grasp. "Where did you get money?" he asked coldly. "Francie said neither of you had a cent with you."
She didn't answer. The expression on her face didn't change. "I said I could manage," she repeated expression-lessly.
He opened the purse and looked into it. It was empty except for a lipstick, two sHghtly beaten cigarettes, a comb, and some wooden matches.
"Your wallet is under your pillow," she said quietly. "I put it there."
Instinctively he reached for it and flipped it open. The bills were still there. He began to feel ashamed of his suspicion.
"Now kin I have my bag back?" she asked. "I wanna get goin'. It's late."
He looked up at her, then down at her empty purse. He took a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and stuffed it into her purse. "Take a cab," he said, handing the purse back to her.
The ten-dollar bill fluttered back onto the bed. "No, thanks," she said dryly. "I don't want nothin' from you." The door closed behind her.
He sat there for a moment in surprise, then jumped to his feet. At the last second he realized that they had stripped the wet bathing-suit from him. Pulling the bedspread around him to hide his nakedness, he ran into the hall after her. "Marja!" he called. "Marja! Wait a minute!" He stumbled over the trailing bedspread and grabbed at the railing to keep from falling down the staircase.
She was already at the bottom of the steps when she turned to look back at him. She stared for a moment, then a smile spread across her face and she began to roar with laughter.
Her laughter floated mockingly up to him. He began to
I
get angry. "What the hell are you laughmg at?" he yelled.
She couldn't stop. "Look at yerself, Ross," she gasped, pointing. "You look like a pitcher of a ghost!"
He turned to the full-length mirror on the wall near him. His pale face and wild hair over the white bedspread did make him look Uke a ghost. He began to smile and then, laughing, turned back to her. "Give me time to get dressed, Marja," he said, "and I'll take you home."
"Better stop the car and let me out here," she said as they came to her corner. "My stepfather might be sittin' at the window."
Silently he pulled the car to the curb. He got out of the car and walked stiffly around it and opened her door. He held her hand as she stepped out.
They stood there awkwardly on the sidewalk for a moment, then she put out her hand. "Thanks for a nice time, Ross," she said poUtely.
He searched her eyes for a trace of sarcasm, but there was none. He took her hand. "Will I see you again, Marja?'* he asked.
Her hand was quiet in his. "If you want," she answered.
He put
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