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SUNDAY EVENING
"Believe? I wouldn't sell myself."
"I think that's pitiful," said Laura.
The door opened.
"Yes, Wilson," said Gilda, "I think you might come in and take away the tea." They heard Wilson fumbling for a moment, then the room sprang into light. They blinked a little, suddenly aware of the furniture, each other's bodies, and a sense of betrayal. Mrs. McKenna rose briskly.
"We might have had some bridge," she said. "What a pity some of us can't play."
She looked down at Laura.
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