PARTISAN REVIEW
81
I thought she was laughing at first. For what or who she cried
I cou ldn 't tell.
It
could have been for any or all of us.
It
could have
been for none of us. It could have been the liquor or even my
dancing. I don't know. And I don't know that I even want to know
anymore. She had to be taken in to bed finally. My brother gave
me a hand , though I told him I could have managed her alone.
I probably would have been better off alone. We had trouble
getting through the bedroom door with her and then he had her
~hoes
off before I could do anything about it. She cursed and kicked
at the bedclothes.
"She always like this?"
"She doesn't like having her shoes taken from her. "
"Her shoes," he repeated, and held the one he still had up to
what light there was in the room. The shoe glistened and in the next
instant, with the turn of his hand, was in shadow. " You think they'll
ever come back?" And when I didn 't answer, "Open toes I'm talk–
ing about."
"I
know. What time does that train of yours leave?"
" I have a minute. He's driving me to the station. Decent of
him after the way I clipped him. I don 't know what got into me. I
could have hurt the man."
The language from the bed, at that moment, seemed to flare .
"We can't just leave her like this."
"Like what?"
"Look at her. " He was no longer whispering. "She doesn 't stop.
It's not enough. I get the feeling that there's something we should
be doing for her that we're not."
I got no such feelin g. There was nothing more I could do for
her, but I did feel now, something for him. I assured him that she
was all right, and reminded him again of his train.
"You're sure? You don't need me?"
" I'm sure."
Then came that moment when there was nothing left to say, and
there was only the sound from her bed between us. " I better run,"
he said at last. He had difficulty with the door I remember. And I
remember the quiet and thinking, as I sat scratching there on the
edge of her unlit bed, of the long way he had to go....
