Baldwin’s asthmatic wheeze, his daily platitudes, his nation-wide roundup of weather conditions, summoned Mary from her bed. Not that she’d been in it for more than an hour or two, not that she’d closed an eye. Instead, she had lain there happily, thinking of David and Life and Love and Important Things like that.Last night had been wonderful. When David said, “You know I love you, baby,” she’d been so happy that she didn’t think she’d ever know trouble again. Then afterwards, up in David’s room, watching the deep rise and fall of his chest in easy sleep, she’d been so happy that she wanted to laugh and shout, sing and pray.But it had been dreadful, going down in the elevator with George by herself, walking through the lobby. She’d felt like a tramp when the doorman was solicitous, got her a cab. “Gee, miss, the Old Man sure cracks the whip, don’t he? I seen Miss Williams work this late manys the time.”“Pretty soft,” Mary managed to say with the proper inflection.“Why’nt you get married?
