At the corner Edna found Dot. She was standing in front of a shoe store that had been a saloon a few years before. The empty streets were drying gradually, sulkily, and a moldy-looking moon moved sluggishly between gray stripes of sky.
Dot said nothing. She watched Edna's approach curiously over the rumpled handkerchief that fluttered between her eyes and mouth with unnecessary, important little jerks.
"What are you waiting for?" asked Edna.
"Car."
"Where do you think you're going?"
No answer.
"Come on home with me, Kid."
Dot neither moved nor answered, and Edna laughed a low, reassuring laugh.
"Don't be foolish now, Dottie. You'll be better off at my house for the night than sitting around Penn Station."
"Aw, Jim'll be over to your place yelling some more."
"No," said Edna. "Jim won't be over." She put a hand on Dot's arm and pushed her into action.
"Look here, Edna. I ain't ashamed of nothing, see? Get that straight. I'd 'a' told Jim how it was if my father hadn't been there. Don't do me any favors thinking I'm the goat of Jim's peeve. He's right. I—I did fall for Eddie Collins."
"Oh, don't I know it, Kid? Come on, forget it."
"How do you know it?"
"I knew it the night you came over and got me to square things with Jim."
"It hadn't happened then, Edna."
