It was now that Dave Husack’s voice rose to a bellow. “You stinking little rat! Standing there grinning and telling me you’re normal. Normal!” This was almost a screech. “You crazy contemptible—–”

There was a sharp rap at the door. It opened.

“Come in,” Bay called.

“Stay out!” Dave yelled. The door opened wider now, and Dina Drake entered.

“They can hear you down as far as the fourth floor. There’s quite a nice little crowd in the hall on this floor standing there letting the elevators go by.”

“You keep out of this, will you!” Dave roared.

She ignored this. “Will one of you battlers drive me home? I mean home to your house. My car is busted and I promised Aunt Louise I’d come in at six.” She was looking directly at Bay. “I promised to do the place cards and the flowers for the dinner party.”

Dave’s face was contorted with inner conflict as he endeavored to wrench his frenzied thoughts from finance to flowers. “Dinner party. I’m not going to any dinner party.”

“Yes you are, Uncle Dave.” She placed a sheaf of papers on his desk. “And sign these.” She placed a pen beside the papers. He seated himself, heavily, he began to scrawl his signature as she picked up each sheet. “Drive me home, Bay?”

“Why not?” Bay said.

“Don’t gush,” she retorted.

Dave Husack did not look up as his hand moved jerkily across paper after paper. “I’ll go along with you, call Emilio and tell him not to come for me.”

“He’s probably started,” Dina said quickly.

“I’ll be gone.”

He was as mercurial as a child, and as emotionally shallow. This girl could almost always distract him from the irritation of his angers, his problems. She knew this. He did not. He stood up now, he fingered his florid tie and patted his pockets. His face was magically cleared of the rage that had twisted it a few moments ago.

Ten minutes later the three were cosily seated side by side in Bay’s car. Any casual observer would have seen three extraordinarily handsome people, relaxed, pleasure-bound, solvent, in a sports car whose size and power and chromatic charms even the snob-magazine illustrations did not exaggerate. The girl sat between the two men, her knee pressed Bay’s lightly, Dave’s knee pressed hers heavily, the three had in common one thing. Seething frustration.