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 not question. He was Eddie, her husband. Solid, strong, and so very dear to her.

The black hush deepened. The piano was quiet. The Democratic Convention had lost its followers. They had gone to bed. No further signal came from Interstate Park. The world was empty. There were only Eddie and Dot, forgotten and solitary, left alone on top of a deserted building.

"Eddie, I love you so."

He kissed her again. "How do you feel, Kid?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm all right. Why? Why did you ask?"

"I just wanted to know."

A little wind came up. Dot's hair blew in his eyes as he bent above her. The fragrance of her powder rose from her warm, white neck. He turned away from her, lost in thoughts of the night he had first kissed her. She had been so gay, so fresh. Now, she was troubled, burdened, and about to face a crisis. He had done it. He had brought this on her.

"Eddie, I got to go see Simons again tomorrow."

"Yes, I know, Kid."

"I wouldn't go if it wasn't for Dr. Stewart. He'd probably be sore if I didn't, huh?"

"Yes, I guess he would. You'll have to go."

"Eddie, when are you going to get your suit?"

"Maybe tomorrow night if you feel well enough to be left alone. I don't want to drag you down there with me."

"What kind you gonna get?"

"Blue serge, I guess. It always looks nice."

"Yes, that's right."

They left the roof then, but Dot knew that the roof