"
Five minutes later, with my hat in my hand, I turned
to find Peter at my elbow.
"Want to talk to you," he said, frowning.
"Sorry, Peter, but I can't stop. Won't it do later?"
"No. Got an assignment? I'll go with you."
"N-not exactly, Peter. The truth is, Blackie has
taken pity on me and has promised to take me out for a
spin, just to cool off. It has been so insufferably
hot."
Peter turned away. "Count me in on that," he said,
over his shoulder.
"But I can't, Peter," I cried. "It isn't my party.
And anyway--"
Peter turned around, and there was an ugly glow in
his eyes and an ugly look on his face, and a little red
ridge that I had not noticed before seemed to burn itself
across his forehead. "And anyway, you don't want me, eh?
Well, I'm going. I'm not going to have my wife chasing
all over the country with strange men. Remember, you're
not the giddy grass widdy you used to be. You can take
me, or stay at home, understand?"
His voice was high-pitched and quavering. Something
in his manner struck a vague terror to my heart. "Why,
Peter, if you care that much I shall be glad to have you
go. So will Blackie, I am sure. Come, we'll go down
now.
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