“I told you, the people here are cold, like the weather,” she said as Adam moved away with his burden. “Next time they’ll listen and hold it in Miami.”

Outside, a snow like thin gruel drifted down. He dared not prop her against the building; clutching and holding, they swayed together out into the wet slush.

“Taxi!” he shouted.

The cars splashed by, among them several cabs.

“Taxi!”

“Ah, you failed me,” she said.

“I don’t love you,” he said. “I’m sorry.” His hair was already soggy; the snow was melting on his neck and wetting the collar of his shirt. “What’s more, I don’t see how you can feel that you love me. We hardly know one another.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. You’ve got to know one another, for Christ sake. TAXI!” he screamed at a passing apparition.

“I mean loving. It’s overrated. I like you so much.”

“God,” he said. He screamed again, aware this time that he was becoming hoarse. Miraculously, the cab stopped, but before he could move her a cunning capped ex-corporal had leaped in and slammed the door. The vehicle pulled away.

Another cab hove into sight, came abreast, sailed by but then, ten feet past them, stopped and two men began to get out.

“Come on,” he said, dragging her. “Before it gets away.” He shouted for it as they slipped and slid but the two men were out now and they were coming toward him and he saw that one was Meomartino and the other was Dr. Longwood. The Old Man shouldn’t be out on a night like this, he thought.

He stopped pulling her. They simply sagged and waited. Meomartino stared when he reached them but said nothing.

“Where have you been?” Dr. Longwood asked her. “We’ve been looking everywhere.” He glanced at Adam. “Where did you find her?”

“Here,” Adam said.

He became aware that her arm was still around his neck, that he continued to hold her around the waist. He disengaged and transferred her to Meomartino, who was silent as stone.

“Thank you very much,” Longwood said stiffly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Sharing the burden, her husband and her uncle moved her to the taxi. The door opened and finally closed, the motor roared, the back wheels spun. Slush flew back like a punishment and struck him on the right trouser leg, but it was already wet and he didn’t care, remembering her stuck zipper.

“Taxi,” he muttered hopelessly as an occupied Yellow Cab bore down upon him out of the gloom.