“Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. She glanced at the soft-ticking clock with the exposed brass pendulum upon the white marble mantel, and made a rapid calculation. After a little further discourse the old man took his departure. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. “How dare you!” she panted, with her world screaming and grimacing insult at her. And what a noise they made! This is how I used to call them. He drifted in and out of consciousness. "Spare me!" he groaned, looking upwards. But she doesn’t and won’t divorce me. It was not the type of household where one could come and go at all hours, for this she was glad.
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