were there. She was afraid that he would insist upon speaking to them. She knew that Cliff and Anna would be very pleasant and polite, but she had no desire to force herself upon them.
After the picture Lillian and Hubert stopped and had ice cream. They took a short walk then. When it was impossible to prolong their absence further they returned to their stifling little apartment and went to bed.
Lillian paid her electric bill next day. Instead of mailing the money she delivered it in person. It was something to do. The days were so long and there was never anything to do but sit at her window and hope. She had tried walking on Dyckman and Two Hundred and Seventh Street, but she found no pleasure in these walks. She kept her eyes turned from the dress and millinery shops lest she see something desirable and unattainable. The other shops bored her. She cared nothing for marquisette curtains, books, or hardware. She thought of walking along the Drive but decided that would be a bore, too, with no one to talk to. There were buses running from One Hundred and Eighty-First Street down to Washington Square. She knew that many women spent the afternoon taking the ride down and back perched on top of the bus. But that was not for Lillian, who trusted no one's driving but her own. She thought often of her roadster and Louise and shopping and everything that used to make her afternoons fly.
She came home from paying her electric bill and undressed. She bathed and slipped on her kimono, then
