Wife or Death Read Free Page B

normal male outrage. In spite of her lusting and lust-arousing body, she remained the child her face proclaimed her.
    Denton came back to the present. Corinne Guest was asking, with the slightest frown, “How did the Wyatts happen to include George and me, Angel?”
    Angel’s blue eyes widened. “Why shouldn’t they, for heaven’s sake?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact, Cor,” George Guest said, “you and I were invited first. I was dancing with Ardis Wyatt when she invited us. Angel was dancing with Norm Wyatt. When we traded partners, Ardis and Norm told Angel to bring Jim along, too.”
    The tune the orchestra had been playing came to an end, and the musicians began to pack their instruments. Denton realized that he had been listening to “Good Night, Ladies.”
    And he hadn’t danced a single dance, he thought ruefully.
    â€œIs it that late?” Corinne asked in a surprised voice.
    George pushed his sleeve back and looked at his watch. “Sure is. Five past one.”
    Angel jumped up. “We’d better start for the Wyatts’, then. Ardis said to come over right after the dance. And I promised her to help set up the buffet.”
    â€œBuffet?” Denton said. “That sounds like a lot of people.”
    â€œWell, sure, darling! It’s not just us four. It’s going to be a regular party.”
    Corinne said doubtfully, “One of those all-night whing-dings … I don’t know, George. Church in the morning—”
    â€œOh, Corinne, don’t be a party pooper,” Angel cried. “It’ll be more fun. Everyone who’s anyone is going to be there.”
    Everyone who’s anyone … Angel, like so many people from the shanty side of the tracks, was rigidly class-conscious. Denton had been unable to make her understand that in Ridgemore a social aristocracy did not exist. There was little real money in town, and the closest thing to “society” was the group of merchants and professional people with sufficient income to afford membership in the Ridgemore Country Club. Since the club dues were only two hundred dollars a year, and the board of governors included the local fish dealer and the owner of the Ridgemore Sanitation Company—the fancy name by which he operated his private garbage-collection business—this was hardly restrictive. But Angel had never been able to grasp the democratic level of the community; she insisted, characteristically, on conjuring up an elite so that she could place Denton and herself within its exalted ranks.
    In the early days of their marriage this had both amused and touched Denton. Angel had never been communicative about her background, even to him, but he did know that she was the youngest of the ten children of a Pennsylvania coal-miner, and that she had run away from home at the age of fifteen. Her marriage to him had enabled her, for the first time in her life, to enjoy what she insisted on regarding as social prestige, and he had been indulgent of her airs. Now he was neither amused nor touched, just indifferent.
    â€œGeorge and I will get your coats,” Denton said to Angel and Corinne, “and meet you at the front door. Come on, George.”
    George Guest got up with undisguised relief.

3
    Outside, the air was still. The threat of rain and thunder rumbled in the west. As Denton held the car door open for Angel, he looked speculatively skyward.
    â€œMaybe we’d better make a run for home,” he suggested. “It’s going to storm.”
    Angel regarded him as though he had suddenly grown a second head. “And miss a party at the Wyatts’? Don’t be silly, James!”
    Shrugging, Denton closed the door, rounded the car and slid under the wheel. Across the parking lot he saw George Guest’s car back out from its space. Denton waited for him to drive out of the exit gate before he followed.
    A few big raindrops started to fall as