“Vee,” she said, “come home. That is what my mother used to call me. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. Walking into the bedroom, she quickly shed the miniskirt and sweater, folding them without ceremony. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. “And now tell me, please, how you eloped from Morningside Park. The confirmed drunkard's mouth at length sets itself peculiarly; it becomes the mark by which thoughtful men know him.
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