married since I'm eighteen. That's eight years. Three of those years he spent in a factory, and once, believe it or not, he was a bus boy in a restaurant for a month. He's earned a right to expect me to stick through thick and thin."
"I don't believe you, Theresa. I think you're expecting me to break loose just because I'm not married to Hubert."
"You insult me, Lillian."
"To hell with that. You insult me, too, when you think I'm the kind that goes with a fellow's bank roll."
"Why doesn't Hubert sell that Packard?"
"Theresa, I don't even consider that my business."
"All right, Lillian. I just want to help you. I—"
"I don't want any help from you, Theresa. Anybody who doesn't include Hubert when they're dealing out favors don't have to help me."
"Oh, you God-damn fool, Lillian Cory." Theresa stopped and began to cry. "What the hell," she said. "I'll be going."
She went. Lillian from the window saw the sun glinting on Theresa's gay little green slippers. She heard the car start and she leaned out of her window and was still watching when it turned the corner.
"I guess she was the best friend I ever had," Lillian thought. "She always seemed so decent and square. Gee, I'd even thought she was the kind a person could depend on."
