If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. Something happened down there, and probably I'll never know what. ” “You weren’t rude,” she said. “I have signed a statement that I shot myself; bad trade and drink, both true—both true.
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