His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. To make Ruth pay for it! He wanted to get away, into some immense echoless tract where he could give vent to this wild laughter which tore at his vitals. Not alone with her, that’s sure. Call her Miss Pellissier, eh? I tell you she’s my wife, and I’ve got the certificate in my pocket. Plays Beethoven, Rubenstein and all those chaps. Wild. “Yes, he made them all. Cloud back of your hat!" He opened his eyes again.
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