The liner backed into the oily river and, turning its unwieldy bulk, nosed toward the bay, a floating continent passing a city blazing within a skeleton, lighting workers emptying and scrubbing away the day's refuse.
Vermillion turned up his coat collar against the Atlantic breeze coming to greet the ship and leaned on a third-class rail. The wish that he had postponed sailing a week or two strengthened with the wind.
Chapter 35
IMMOLATION
"It's nine, won't the surprise be over by the time you get there?" Vida asked, impatient at Lucy's tarrying.
"I don't care if it is," Lucy replied belligerently. "I wouldn't go if not for Nino. I hate going to a stranger's by myself. I know Semy and Figente aren't going. I called Tessie and said what are you doing tonight? She said she was going to Great Neck for the week end but that Beman was going to a stag."
"It's probably Nino's society friends, and Mrs. Cornwallis knows he'll be disappointed without you," Vida soothed. Lucy had been disturbingly edgy for two days, since she had returned tearfully Wednesday midnight refusing to say what was the matter. It would be a relief to have a quiet evening to herself, Vida thought.
Lucy disapproved what she saw in the mirror. A white georgette with ice-blue beads clinging to a flesh slip matching her stockings. Then, above a too-familiar face, a hairdresser's dream come true of sleek close waves escaping over each ear in an immaculate curl.
"I remind myself of the bubbling stem of a champagne glass," she said cynically. "I hate this dress but I may as well wear it once, it's what society thinks Broadway wears. No jewelry, I sparkle enough already. Besides what I own would look like Woolworth next to theirs. I'd rather stay home with you!"
"A party'll do you good. I wouldn't be much company. I must write home. I don't know what to say except that Mae wrote Tina died and that I'm sorry Ma is taking it so hard. I know that won't
