too. I've tried to get over several times, but something always comes up. I'm so damned rushed these days." To strengthen this, he lied, "Once I went, and neither of you were home"
Eunice took him at his word. "Oh, that's too bad! But I'm glad you've tried, anyway. I was beginnin' to think you were mad at Eunice, and I've been lyin' awake nights tryin' to figure out why."
"Yes, I'll bet you have!"
Eunice nodded. "I have, Jock." And looked deep into his eyes until Jock shifted them.
"I'll call you up some day soon," he promised ingratiatingly. "Just as soon as I can get a spare minute."
"Oh, do," implored Eunice. "I've—we've both missed you so."
A few minutes later Jock watched the coupé wheel away from the curb and down the street. "I'll call her up, yah, the hell I will!" he told himself. And added, "I suppose the next I know they'll be saying I bought her that coupé, too."
He walked on, sober and puzzled. . . .
On Saturday he cut two classes to catch an early New York train, and spent the hiatus between his arrival and the hour when Yvonne expected him in buying things for her. Assorted small things, chosen because they reminded him of her, or seemed suitable to her, or merely because they chanced to catch his fancy. A looking-glass rimmed in old silver, with a delicately wrought figurine of a woman for its handle.
