” “Nor I,” she remarked tersely. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. The immense disillusionment that awaited him! The devastating disillusionment! She had a vague desire to run after him, to state her case to him, to wring some understanding from him of what life was to her. Several people were passed out on the sectional sofa, and muffled noises emanated from other rooms indicating that the party’s embers were still smoldering, but John was nowhere to be seen. Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way. His voice now had lost its ironies. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. "Get up, then," said Jack, freeing his foot from the stirrup.
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