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now,” I said forlornly. “There’s nothing to wait here for any more.”
    He got up and came outside with me. He said, “I’ll take you downstairs and put you in a taxi. Do you want Mort or the girl to ride home with you to your place?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “I’ll be all right. I’ll have to get used to going around alone from now on, I guess.”
    After he’d closed the cab door on me and given the driver my address, and just as he was about to turn away I reached out quickly through the open window and clutched him by the sleeve. “When? Tell me the date.”
    â€œNow, why do you want to——?” he protested.
    I wouldn’t let go his arm. “I’ve got to know. Please tell me.”
    â€œThe week of May sixteenth.”
    I sank back against the seat. And all the way home the thought that rode with me was: “I’m only twenty-two, and yet they’re going to make me a widow in less than three months.”

4
    FAREWELL SCENE
    I T ’ S HARD TO SAY GOOD-BY FOR GOOD AT ANY TIME OR ANY place. It’s harder still to say it through a meshed wire. It crisscrossed his face into little diagonals, gave me only little broken-up molecules of it at a time. It stenciled a cold, rigid frame around every kiss. And nothing should come between the kisses of a man and his wife.
    He said things that went right through me. “Everyone’s entitled to be forgiven at least once. Even a dog; they give a dog three bites——”
    â€œYou are, you were, you have been, long ago, oh, long ago.”
    â€œThat was just—well, it must have been one last wild oat left over. I would have been such a good husband from—then on. If they would’ve only let me. I would have been the best-behaved guy anyone ever had around her. I would have brought you candy or flowers every night when I came home and I would’ve never kicked about the coffee any more.”
    â€œDon’t,” I sobbed. “You’ll bring me flowers; you’ll bring me candy; you’ll kick about the coffee all you want, all you want. You will, you will again, you’ll see.”
    He smiled as though he had his doubts. “But in case, in case I don’t, afterward, after it’s over—Angel Face, you won’t let anyone else bring you flowers home at night or kick about the coffee, will you? Don’t let anyone else—I know you’re young yet—but that belongs to me.”
    â€œNever,” I panted despairingly, “never anyone else but you. It’ll be you or no one at all. Kiss me again. Again. Again. Oh, just once more. Another. They don’t stay on . Kirk, how can we make them last?” Forever is such a long time.
    â€œThere’s something else I want to tell you. I’ve always wanted to, ever since that night. This is my last chance; I have to now; there’s only a minute left. You remember that night?”
    How could I ever forget it?
    â€œI only went there to tell her I was backing out. That the trip was off. Even the first time, at two. Before I knew what had happened, before I knew it had been taken out of my hands. I’d been thinking it over. I knew it was you, had always been you, would always be you. The other thing was just a week-end spree, a binge, no different from a kid playing hooky from school for one afternoon—and coming home all rashed up with poison ivy afterward, so he don’t do it again in a hurry! Only, I was supposed to meet her at the station, and I couldn’t just let her stand there waiting and not show up. I didn’t want to do that to her; she was a woman, after all. So I went over there to try to break it to her ahead of time. No one answered at two, the first time I was there. I went back to the office and I tried to reach her on the phone a couple of times in between. Then when I still couldn’t get her I went back again at six, when I