Dot said nothing. Her eyes roamed undirected to the boxes which Pat carried piled up in front of his face like a moving-picture comedian.
"Sure she gives me clothes, but say, how she enjoys it! I owe her nothing," Sue declared. "You could tell her what I've said and she'd still continue to pass on her castoffs to me. I could kill her sometimes, she's so damn patronizing."
"Patronizing!" Eddie suddenly exclaimed. "That's the word."
Nobody noticed him. Dot was absorbed in what Sue was saying. Open dislike of any one who had been kind was entirely new to Dot.
It occupied her mind till Pat and Sue turned off toward the subway and Eddie and she were alone. There was no word spoken between them. They walked on, their heels sounding hollow and sad on the deserted pavements. They passed a bakery and the odor of fresh loaves rose up, seeking to lure them into the shop where a blatant white light spread itself over marble-topped tables and raisinstudded coffee rings.
"Want some coffee?" Eddie asked.
"No, thank you," Dot returned firmly.
They walked on, their steps growing slower as they neared Dot's door.
"Well?" Eddie prompted as they stopped.
"What well?"
"Gonna see me again?"
"That's up to you."
"No, it ain't."
"Sure it is."
"I ain't gonna argue at this hour. I got to get some sleep. You call me up tomorrow. I gave you the number in the Chinee joint, didn't I?"
"Yes, I have it."
