Clayton Spencer, cutting in on the second rubber, wondered which of the
many he knew was the real Audrey. He wondered if Chris had not married,
for instance, the girl at the piano, only to find she was the woman
upstairs. And he wondered, too, if that were true, why he should have
had to clear out. So many men married the sort Audrey had been, in
Chris's little study, only to find that after all the thing they had
thought they were getting was a pose, and it was the girl at the piano
after all.
He missed her, somewhat later. She was gone a full half hour, and he
fancied her absence had something to do with the money she had borrowed.