There was a silence. “Kate,” he said, his voice sharp now,
“open this door!”
“I certainly will not!”
Again a pause, then he said, almost pleadingly, “Kate, I
have to fly to Athens tomorrow morning at dawn. I have to
go to the States. I won’t be back for a week at the earliest.
Let me in, please. I must see you.”
“We have nothing to say to each other. Now, go away.
You’re boring me.” She yawned, loudly, near the door.
He rattled the door again, loudly. “Kate, for God’s sake—I
need you!” His voice seemed muffled by the door, strained
and uneven.
“All I need is some sleep,” she said lightly. “Don’t you
know when you’re not wanted? Now, good night!”
The silence this time was so long that she pressed her ear
to the door, to see if he was still there, and jumped away
when she heard his breathing.
“For the last time, Kate,” he began thickly, and she cut
him short.
“Good grief, you’re worse than the Inland Revenue!
Haven’t you gone yet?”
She heard his heavy footsteps move away, then the slam
of his own door.
He had gone, and tomorrow he would not be here when
she got up. She would probably never see him again. She
sat down on her bed, looking at herself in the mirror.
Hollow-eyed, pale, her blonde hair made her look like a
negative, strangely ethereal and filled with sadness. How
long, she wondered, would this pain last?
CHAPTER NINE