“It was quite dark. Tom Archer, for all that it was a warm night, without a threat of rain, carried a trench coat. ‘Hello, guardian angel.’ ‘Tom!’ said Ann Drew. They no longer opened their conversations with, ‘How’s yours?’ ‘Sorry I’m late. I had to go pick up a girl friend.’ ‘Oh?’ ‘How’s Miss Myra?’ ‘About the same. Sometimes I think she doesn’t realize about Robert, even though she went to the funeral. What girl friend?’ Something said Yeep! in a high soprano. Unnoticing, Tom said, ‘I get so ...dog-gone sorry for her.’ ‘Sorry for whom?’ Yeep! ‘Miss Myra, of course. I wonder what she was like — before.’ ‘Tom Archer, will you answer my question? What girl friend?’ Yeep! This time it was loud and clear. She clutched his free arm. ‘What was that?’ ‘What was what?’ ‘Didn’t you hear it?’ ‘I didn’t hear anything.’ ‘Something went … yeep,’ she said. ‘Went what?’ ‘Yeep!’ she repeated angrily. ‘Honey,’ Archer said, ‘do you feel all right?’ Yeep!MoreLessRead More Read Less
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