Chapter ThirtyIn a Crumpled Heap
“Everything all right?” asked Millie.
“No,” said Tim. “I’ve got to go.”
“Better have a drinkie.”
“No, thanks.”
She smiled at him, a twisted little smile. “Gonna kiss me before you go?”
He hesitated, then stepped forward and kissed her quickly on the cheek. She caught him by the lapels and clung to him, her face nuzzling his. The sultry fragrance of her body made him dizzy. He took her wrists and looked down at her. Under the make-up, her face was old.
“Good-by, Millie,” he said.
“Ah, hell,” said Millie to the ceiling. “Why do I always get mixed up with husbands! Good-by, St. Anthony.”
The sharp wind that shook the branches of the two bare trees outside felt good. Tim pulled his trenchcoat around him and walked fast down the street.
Sixth Avenue wa
