suggested pleasantly, ignoring his bad temper. "Kansas City or Fort Worth and Los Angeles."
He tuned to one of them searching for something of his own to restore his self-importance; strains of music sounded.
"What're they playing, Ket?" she asked, as they listened.
"Something punk. Nothing of mine," he replied with scorn and twisted the dial so that the music ceased. With a dignity which refused further words with her, he departed.
At the door, which he had left ajar, she stood listening for the closing of his door below; but she heard nothing until, by way of her window, she caught the sound of steps on the walk in the court. She ran to the window and in the moonlight she saw Ket leave the building.
He turned toward the lake and she started at the idea that he might be on his way to his wife's apartment, where half an hour ago she had seen Adele and the young man who was not Ket but was like him; and she knew that Ket must not be allowed to choose this hour of this night to visit his wife.
Jo ran downstairs and out to the walk where she saw him proceeding toward the shore, but he seemed to have no purpose in his step; and she did not run after him. It was not likely, she realized, that he was going to Adele; he seemed to be merely walking off his bad temper.
He turned the corner and, in spite of her decision of the moment before, Jo began running to catch him; but in a moment she stopped, knowing that if he were bound for Adele's apartment, she was too late to prevent him; and if he were not, the worst thing she could do would be to show fear of his going there.
