VI
Next morning d**k came early into Nicole’s room. ‘I waited till I heard you up. Needless to say I feel badly about the evening, but how about no postmortems?’
‘I’m agreed,’ she answered coolly, carrying her face to the mirror.
‘Tommy drove us home? Or did I dream it?’
‘You know he did.’
‘Seems probable,’ he admitted, ‘since I just heard him coughing. I think I’ll call on him.’
She was glad when he left her, for almost the first time in her life, his awful faculty of being right seemed to have deserted him at last.
Tommy was stirring in his bed, waking for café au lait.
‘Feel all right?’ d**k asked.
When Tommy complained of a sore throat he seized at a professional attitude.
‘Better have a gargle or something.’
‘You have one?’
‘Oddly enough I haven’t, probably Nicole has.’
‘
