Trembling, the distraught wife began to cry again and Carol tried to comfort her, putting an arm around Peg's shoulder and walking her toward the couch. «Here, dear, you sit down and let me get you something to steady you. You're safe here …»

«As … as long as … he doesn't know where I am …!» Peggy sobbed.

«Don't worry. He can't get beyond that door, not with Sultan here!» Carol assured her. «Now you sit right there while I get you a drink, Honey. Then, we'll see what to do about this!»

The ugly brute had obviously slapped her, Carol thought, trembling herself as she poured straight whiskey into a small glass. The red welts from his big fingers were still embossed on the poor girl's cheek.

«Here, drink this, hon,» Carol said, dropping down beside Peg to gently place a hand on the shivering brunette's shoulder as she handed her the glass. «Just sip at it … would you like some water …?»

«No … no thanks, Carol. T-This is fine … and I'm so grateful. I-I didn't know where to run to. He was like … like a maniac when he couldn't find my purse … but I'd expected this and … and hid it in a different place!»

Carol didn't know what to say. She didn't want to be nosy, or get involved in the Whites' domestic problems, but … «What're you going to do, Peggy? Will he get over it …?»

«Oh yes … by tomorrow probably,» the still shuddering wife replied, sighing raggedly as if to shake the fearful quaking possessing her. «He always does. He'll be too hungover to carry on by then.»

«But what about tonight? You just can't go back there and take a chance on him beating you?» Carol said. «He's probably furious by now!»

Again Peggy sighed, laying her head back onto the edge of the couch, a little smile sardonically twisting her pretty mouth. «That … is putting it mildly, darling! Ten years of experience with him tells me that he's in a murderous rage by this time, vowing to tear me limb from limb!»