It was no time for dancing, he thought.
"Now you sit down," she ordered.

She was almost gay again, yet with a nervous, desperate gaiety that would at moments die to a brooding solemnity.

"And listen," she began, when he had seated himself in bewilderment at her sudden change of mood, "you'll be off to your old motion picture to-morrow night, and I'll be here sick in bed--" "I won't go if you don't want me to," he put in quickly.
"That's no good; you'd have to go sometime.

The quicker the better, I guess.

I'll go myself sometime, if I ever get over this disease that's coming on me.