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diff --git a/old/66940-0.txt b/old/66940-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0009ebf..0000000 --- a/old/66940-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7822 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of In a Yellow Wood, by Gore Vidal - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: In a Yellow Wood - -Author: Gore Vidal - -Release Date: December 13, 2021 [eBook #66940] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Andrés V. Galia, Sally Dunne, Joyce, Inatale and the Online - Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This - book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust - Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN A YELLOW WOOD *** - - - TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES - -In the plain text version words in Italics are denoted by _underscores_. - -The book cover was modified by the transcriber and has been added to -the public domain. - -A number of words in this book have both hyphenated and non-hyphenated -variants. For the words with both variants present the one more used -has been kept. - -Obvious punctuation and other printing errors have been corrected. - -The Table of Contents was added by the transcriber. - - - * * * * * - - - IN A YELLOW WOOD - - - NOVELS BY _Gore Vidal_ - - IN A YELLOW WOOD - WILLIWAW - - - - - IN A - YELLOW WOOD - - By - - GORE VIDAL - - [Illustration] - - 1947 - - E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY, INC. - - NEW YORK - - - _Copyright, 1947, by E. P. Dutton & Co., Inc._ - _All rights reserved. Printed in the U.S.A._ - - [Illustration] - - FIRST EDITION - - NO PART _of this book may be reproduced - in any form without permission in writing - from the publisher, except by a reviewer - who wishes to quote brief passages in connection - with a review written for inclusion in - magazine or newspaper or radio broadcast._ - - - _American Book-Stratford Press, Inc., New York_ - - - _For Anais Nin_ - - - _All of the characters, all of the events and - most of the places in this book are fictitious._ - - - - - CONTENT - - Pg. - - 1 DAY 7 - - CHAPTER ONE 9 - - CHAPTER TWO 18 - - CHAPTER THREE 31 - - CHAPTER FOUR 46 - - CHAPTER FIVE 59 - - CHAPTER SIX 73 - - CHAPTER SEVEN 86 - - CHAPTER EIGHT 103 - - - 2 NIGHT 113 - - CHAPTER NINE 115 - - CHAPTER TEN 143 - - CHAPTER ELEVEN 166 - - CHAPTER TWELVE 180 - - 3 THE YELLOW WOOD 195 - - CHAPTER THIRTEEN 197 - - CHAPTER FOURTEEN 209 - - - - - 1 - DAY - - - _Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, - And sorry I could not travel both - And be one traveller._... - - --FROST - - -From _Collected Poems_ by Robert Frost. Copyright, 1930, 1939, by -Henry Holt and Company, Inc. Copyright, 1936, by Robert Frost. - - - - - _Chapter One_ - -Robert Holton removed several dark hairs from his comb and wondered if -his hairline was receding. He squinted for a moment at himself in the -mirror and decided that he was not losing his hair, not yet anyway. - -Then he sat down on the edge of the bed and put on his shoes. He -started to tie the laces of the left shoe when he began to think of his -dream. He had many dreams: of flying through the air, of walking in -empty rooms, of all the standard things that psychiatrists like to hear -about. Unfortunately, in the morning he could seldom recall what he had -dreamed the night before. He would remember the sensation of the dream -but nothing else. He would remember if it had been good or bad but that -was all. Last night his dream had been unpleasant and something in the -room had suddenly recalled it to him. - -Robert Holton frowned and tried to remember. Was it the carpet? He had -looked at the carpet while tying his shoe. He looked at it now. The -carpet was dusty and uninteresting. It was a solid brown color; the -same carpet that covered the floor of every hotel room in New York. No, -the carpet was not connected with his dream. - -He had been standing at the dresser while combing his hair. He looked -at the dresser: plain dull wood with dull scroll work about the mirror. -On the dresser was a dingy white cloth and on the cloth were a pair -of brushes, his wallet, and a collection of small things. Nothing -suggested an unpleasant dream. - -The morning light glowed yellowly through the window shade. There was a -band of brighter light between the bottom of the shade and the window -sill and here the daylight shone into the square room where Robert -Holton lived. He looked at the sunlight a moment and forgot his dream. - -He glanced at his watch: fifteen minutes to eight. He had to be at the -office at eight-thirty. Quickly he tied his shoes and got to his feet. -He searched through the bureau drawers for a shirt. He found a white -one and put it on. Before the war he had worn colored shirts but now -plain white ones seemed more sound. And then it was a good idea not to -be too vivid when you worked for a brokerage house. - -His tie was pretty, though. It was a striped one, blue and white. Not -a dark sullen blue but a light and casual blue. As he knotted his tie -in front of the mirror he noticed his face was pale. He was always pale -in the morning, of course; still, he looked unhealthy in the city. This -morning he looked paler than usual. There were no pouches under his -eyes, though, and he was glad of that. Robert Holton looked younger -than twenty-six. His features were boyish and undistinguished and -certain women had said that he was handsome. Robert Holton had looked -well in uniform. - -He put on his trousers and tightened the belt. Robert Holton, though he -had never been much of an athlete, had a good build. Sitting at desks, -however, would ruin it sooner or later and the thought made him sad. -There was nothing he could do, of course, for he would always sit at -desks. - -He picked up his coat from the chair where he had hung it the night -before and put it on. He posed for a moment in front of the mirror. -Perhaps he was not handsome but he was nicer looking than a great many -people and it is better to be nicer looking than a great many people -than to be unusually handsome. - -Robert Holton turned from the window and went into the bathroom. His -watch was on the tile floor beside the bathtub where he had left it the -night before. He set the watch by his alarm clock. - -Again he tried to recall his dream. On the wall there was a picture -of some apples on a table. A Frenchman had painted the picture twenty -years before. It had been reproduced and the hotel had bought several -copies because they were cheap and because the manager’s wife had -thought the picture pleasant. Robert Holton liked the picture. It -seemed to suggest his dream to him more than anything else in the room. -He studied the picture but he could not remember the dream. The picture -only made him uneasy. He looked away. - -He went to the closet and took out his trench coat. He had bought it -when he became a lieutenant three years before. - -It was almost eight o’clock now. Robert Holton opened the door of his -room and stepped out into the corridor. - -There was a difference in smell. The corridor smelled old and dusty as -though no one had walked down it in years. Robert Holton in the one -year he had lived in this hotel had never seen anyone else come out of -a room. Sometimes he wondered if he might not be the only person living -on this floor, or in this hotel, or in the world. - -The ceiling of the corridor was high and he enjoyed walking under such -a high ceiling. He walked to the elevator and pressed the button marked -“Down.” - -There was a large pot filled with white sand beside the elevator door. -He had always wanted to put something into that white sand. A cigarette -butt, anything at all to spoil the white smooth surface. One day he -would spit on the sand; he made himself that promise. - -There was a clatter as the elevator went past his floor. That always -happened. He pushed the button angrily. - -Robert Holton tried to recall what he was supposed to do that day at -the office. He could think of nothing very important that had to be -done. In the afternoon he was supposed to go to a cocktail party and -he looked forward to that. Mrs Raymond Stevanson was giving it and she -was a very proper person to know. She had been a friend of his mother’s -and she had been nice to Robert Holton when his mother had died several -years earlier. His father thought Mrs Raymond Stevanson was stupid but -his father was often harsh and she was, after all, important socially. -When one was starting out in the brokerage business contacts were -important. He began to map his day in detail. - -There was a loud rattling and the elevator stopped at his floor. The -door opened and Robert Holton stepped into the elevator. - -“Good morning, Mr Holton,” said the elevator boy, a young man in his -middle teens. - -“Good morning, Joe. What kind of a day is it?” - -“Wonderful out. Real warm for this time of year. Real Indian summer -outside. Real nice weather.” - -“That’s fine,” said Robert Holton, glad to hear that the weather was -good. - -“Any news on the market?” asked Joe, stopping at the seventh floor. - -“Nothing new.” A middle-aged man, tall and thin, came into the -elevator. Robert Holton had seen him almost every day for a year but -they never spoke. The middle-aged man wore a black shiny topcoat and he -carried a large leather brief case in which the outlines of an apple -could be seen. - -“I guess there’s nothing for me to put my money in, I guess,” said Joe. - -“I shouldn’t advise buying now,” said Robert Holton. It was a daily -joke of theirs. Joe would pretend he had money to invest and wanted -advice. - -They stopped at the second floor and another tall thin man in a shiny -black overcoat got into the elevator. This man had a red face, though, -and the other man had a white face. Neither of them ever spoke. Robert -Holton often wondered what they did for a living, whether they had -wives or not. - -“Well, here we are,” said Joe, opening the door. “We made it all right -this time.” - -“We certainly did.” Robert Holton followed the two older men out of the -elevator and into the lobby. - -The lobby was high-ceilinged and old-fashioned. Tropical bushes grew -in buckets and a gray chandelier was suspended from the center of the -ceiling. At the desk sat a faded little woman. - -She nodded to Robert Holton and he nodded to her. They never spoke. He -picked up a newspaper from the desk, looked at his mail box to see if -he might have overlooked something the night before. Finding nothing, -he put three cents in a saucer beside the newspapers. - -Robert Holton went outside. The morning was clear and cool. There was -a depth, a golden depth in the air. There was no time of the year as -pleasant as autumn, thought Robert Holton; unless it was spring. He -liked spring, too. - -He walked down the not yet busy side street where he lived. His -footsteps sounded sharp and loud on the pavement. The brownstone houses -that lined the street seemed large and significant this morning. -Perhaps it was because of the clearness of the day. He noticed details -in the stone that he had never noticed before. For instance, one of -the houses was built of oddly pitted stone. He had seen another place -built of pitted stone. He thought a moment: Notre Dame, the cathedral -in Paris. During the war he had seen it. He had even walked up a great -many winding steps to get to the top. At the top he had noticed the -pitted stone which had proved, somehow or other, that the building was -very old. - -Sleepy children were coming out of the houses. They walked down the -street to the bus stop, schoolbooks under their arms. There was a smell -of bacon and coffee in the air and Robert Holton’s stomach contracted -hungrily. - -At the end of the street was the subway station. Every morning he -disappeared down it and every evening he came up out of it. He spent a -lot of time in the subway. - -He went down the dirty cement steps. He put a nickel into the turnstile -and walked out onto the cement platform. Twenty or thirty men and women -stood on the platform with him, waiting for the downtown train. - -The express went crashing by them. The noise of these trains was -terrific. After it had passed he had to yawn several times to clear the -deafness from his ears. Then the local stopped and he got aboard. - -He sat next to a stout man who lived in his hotel. Occasionally they -would speak. - -“How’s the market?” asked the fat man, deciding not to read his paper. - -“The market’s doing fine, should go up.” - -“Well, that sure is good news. I’ve a little bit that I’d like to -put in it. I’d like to put it in something safe, though. You know of -something safe? Something that’s going to go way up, say?” - -“Well, that’s a hard question. It’s very hard to tell just yet. Sugar’s -doing well,” said Robert Holton. He always said the same things to -these questions. No one cared what he said. They would repeat it to -acquaintances, saying that a friend of theirs in Wall Street had -advised them to buy sugar but they didn’t feel it was such a good buy -at this time. - -“You was in the army, weren’t you?” asked the stout man suddenly. - -Robert Holton nodded. - -“Been out long?” - -“Over a year.” - -“I’ll bet you was glad to get out. To get away from all those rules and -things, those restrictions. I was in the army in the last war. I guess -the one before last, you’d call it now. I was sure glad to get out.” - -“Everyone is,” said Robert Holton and he thought of the things that he -had done in London. He had liked London. - -“You went to college, didn’t you?” asked the stout man; he was trying -to clear up something in his mind. - -“That’s right.” - -“That’s what I thought. Me, I never had the opportunity. I had to go -to work,” said the stout man with pride. “I had to work when I was a -youngster. I never went to college.” - -“It’s a good experience,” said Robert Holton, wishing the man would -read his paper and stop asking questions. The train went around a -corner noisily; blue electric sparks sparkled outside the window. Then -the train straightened out again. - -“I’m in the grocery business,” said the stout man. - -“I know,” said Robert Holton, “we’ve talked about that before.” - -“I started right in at the bottom,” said the stout man. - -“That’s the best place to start,” said Robert Holton, feeling that -there was no answer to this. He was wrong. - -“Well, I don’t know. It’s hard to say. How _did_ you like the -army?” - -“It wasn’t bad.” - -“It wasn’t good neither. I never got overseas last time, I mean time -before last, but we had it rough in training.” - -“I can imagine.” Robert Holton looked away and the stout man stopped -talking. Robert Holton looked at the upper moulding of the car to see -if there were any new advertisements. There weren’t any. His special -favorite, a girl advertising beer, was behind him and he couldn’t see -it. Gloomily he examined a fat red child devouring a piece of bread. -This was the advertisement he liked least. He looked away. - -A woman with a small child sat across from him, directly under the -bread advertisement. The woman was heavy with a roll of flesh around -her middle; she wore a tight black dress. The child with her was about -the age of the one in the picture. This child was pale, though, pale -and fat. - -A Negro was asleep next to the woman and child. He was long and thin -and his bare ankles and wrists looked like brown wood. Two Jewish -secretaries with yellow hair talked brightly together. They were young -women and wore gaily colored clothes and their plump legs were hairless -and pink. - -An old woman with gray hair and deep lines in her face looked at the -two young women and seemed to hate them in a secret womanly manner. -Several young boys, wearing discarded army clothing, sat in a corner, -their schoolbooks beside them. They talked in hoarse changing voices. -Robert Holton could not hear what they were saying but their voices -seemed to speak of sexual things. - -The train stopped at a station and the stout man left. Two more stops -and Robert Holton would get off. - -The car was beginning to empty. Only the two girls were opposite him. -They still talked brightly and laughed too loudly, conscious that he -was watching them. - -The train made its two stops and the girls got off. No one sat opposite -him now. He studied the advertisements. - -Then his stop was made. Quickly he got up, his trench coat under his -arm. He went out onto the platform and before the train left he looked -in again through the window. Slightly to the right of where he had been -sitting was the picture of the girl advertising beer. He looked at her -until the train pulled out. - -When the train was gone he turned and walked up the dirty cement steps -and as he walked he wished that he had a girl as pretty as the one who -advertised beer. - - - - - _Chapter Two_ - - -“Hurry up, Marjorie. Let’s get those tables cleaned up.” - -“Yes,” said Marjorie Ventusa, “yes, Mrs Merrin, I certainly will,” she -spoke sweetly, hoping that Mrs Merrin would get the sarcasm in her -voice but Mrs Merrin was already at the other end of the restaurant -talking to another waitress. - -Marjorie pushed her natural blonde hair out of her eyes. She was never -able to keep it in order; perhaps she should have it cut shorter, wear -a snood perhaps. Mrs Merrin was watching her, she noticed. Quickly -Marjorie began to put the dirty dishes on her tray. - -People were coming in and out of the restaurant. It got a lot of -the less wealthy Wall Street trade. Clerks and secretaries and -stenographers had breakfast and lunch here and the lonelier ones had -supper here. When her tray was full she went back to the kitchen. - -On the other side of the swinging doors the cooks, wearing fairly -clean aprons and white hats, were cooking at ranges. There was always -steam and the smell of soap in the air. People shouted at one another -and it was like a war. Marjorie hated the kitchen. The front part of -the restaurant was all right. She had been a waitress off and on for -fifteen years and she didn’t mind noisy people and the clattering of -dishes. - -She put some glasses of water on her tray before she left the kitchen. -Then Marjorie Ventusa gave the swinging door a kick and walked back -into the dining room. She had five tables to take care of. - -Two women were seated at the table she had just cleared. She could tell -from the backs of their heads that they were secretaries and older -women; this meant they would be very particular and leave a ten-cent -tip for both of them. - -“Good morning,” said Marjorie Ventusa, smiling brightly and thinking of -nothing at all. She put the water glasses on the table. The two women -were frowning at their menus. - -“How much extra is a large orange juice?” asked one. - -“It’s ten cents more if you take it with the breakfast.” - -“All right, I’ll take a double orange juice, some toast and coffee. Do -you have any marmalade?” - -“Yes, ma’am.” - -“Well, bring some of that, too.” - -The other woman said, “The same for me.” Marjorie Ventusa picked up -their menus. As she was turning to go she saw Robert Holton come into -the restaurant and she was suddenly happy. She smiled at him and he, -seeing her, smiled back. She pointed to one of her tables and he sat -down at it. Quickly she went back to the kitchen to give her orders. -She pushed her hair back from her face and promised herself that she -would get a snood the next day. - -Marjorie Ventusa liked Robert Holton. For a year he had been coming -into the restaurant; he always spoke pleasantly to her and they -would joke together. She had never seen him anywhere except in the -restaurant. She knew that he never really noticed her but she was -always glad to see him and she was delighted when he talked to her -and smiled at her; his smile was pleasant and he had nice teeth. She -thought him handsome. - -“Good morning, Mr Holton,” she said, putting a glass of water and some -silverware on his table. - -“How’re you today, Marjorie? You look perfect.” - -“Sure, sure, I do; I’m a real beauty.” Marjorie always felt awkward -with him, as though she couldn’t think of the right words to say. She -was older than he was, too. Marjorie was thirty-seven; she had known a -lot of men and still she was awkward with him. - -“What you going to have this morning?” she asked. - -“Well....” He drawled the word as he looked at the menu and she had a -strong urge to touch the short dark hairs on the back of his neck. She -tried to think of some excuse to do so. Then she was angry with herself -for having thought of such a thing. - -“I guess I’ll have some orange juice and scrambled eggs and bacon.” - -“Is that all you going to eat? Why, how you ever going to get big and -strong?” - -He laughed. “Not sitting at a desk and eating your cooking.” - -“Oh, is that so?” Marjorie Ventusa walked slowly back to the kitchen. -She felt strained as she walked for she could feel he was watching her. -She wished suddenly that her hips weren’t so big and that her legs were -slimmer. - -She shouted his order to the cooks, then she took the two secretaries’ -breakfasts out to them. They complained bitterly about the size of the -orange juice and one said that it was too sour and the other said that -there were seeds in it. - -“I’m sorry,” said Marjorie, “would you like something else?” - -They said they would not and acted as if she had grown the oranges -badly and had put seeds in the juice. One of her other tables was full -now and she went and took their order. - -Out in the kitchen his breakfast was ready and she put it on her tray. -There were some seeds in the orange juice which she carefully removed -with a spoon. - -He was reading his paper when she came back. He didn’t look up as she -arranged the dishes on his table. - -“Well, here’s your breakfast,” she said. “You better eat it while it’s -hot.” - -“Oh, sure.” Robert Holton folded his paper and laid it on the table. -She watched him as he drank the orange juice. - -“Sour, isn’t it?” she asked. - -“A little bit, maybe.” - -“I’m glad you’re not going to complain. The rest, they all complain all -the time. I get so tired sometimes I could get sick; I get so tired of -listening to them.” - -“Just don’t take them seriously. Everybody feels awful in the morning. -You’ve just been awake longer and you feel better than they do, that’s -all.” - -Marjorie Ventusa laughed admiringly. “I wouldn’t have ever thought of -that,” she said. “You might be right. Anyway a girl gets pretty tired -of being shouted at all the time like it’s her fault.” - -“Well, just relax. I like the food and the service.” - -“Thank you,” she said, trying to sound elegant and funny at the same -time. - -“When you going to go out dancing with me?” Robert Holton asked, -sawing a piece of bacon in half with a blunt knife. - -“I’m pretty busy,” she said; she always said that when he asked her -that question. He would say it because he thought it was funny and she -would answer him as though she thought it was funny too. She wished -that he meant it now. She had always wished that he meant it. “I’m -pretty busy,” she said. “I got so many people asking to go out with me. -You’d have to wait couple of weeks, maybe.” - -“I can wait,” he said, smiling at her; smiling the way he would to a -child, she thought suddenly. She watched him eat. - -“Marjorie,” said a voice behind her. - -“Yes, Mrs Merrin, I’m coming. I’ll be right with you. I was just -cleaning this table.” - -Mrs Merrin was tall and stout with a wide loose mouth which she could -make look stern and harsh when she wanted to. She made it look that way -now. - -“Marjorie,” she said in a low voice, “you stop your hanging around and -talking to the customers. I tell you I won’t stand for it.” - -“I’m sorry, Mrs Merrin. I was just cleaning the table.” Mrs Merrin -smiled warmly at Robert Holton and walked away. - -“She’s an awful bitch,” said Marjorie Ventusa. - -“What did she say?” asked Robert Holton. “I didn’t hear her.” - -“She was just running off at the mouth, that’s all. She thought I was -talking too much to you.” - -One of her tables called for a check and she walked over quickly and -put their used plates on her tray. Then she went back to the kitchen. -More orders were ready for her. She loaded her tray and went back to -work. - -As she worked she watched Robert Holton. It was twenty minutes past -eight and she knew that he had to be at his office at eight-thirty. -She hoped that he would stay as long as possible. His office was only -a block away and he would be able to stay until eight-thirty. He ate -slowly, she knew, and he would read his paper as he ate. - -She hurried back to the kitchen. Two waitresses were talking and -laughing together in a corner. They were young and pretty and would -probably marry in another year and never work again; in another year -Marjorie Ventusa would still be waiting on tables. - -She stopped in front of the mirror behind the swinging doors. Mrs -Merrin always said that neatness was an important thing. - -Marjorie Ventusa rubbed the kitchen steam from the mirror. Her hair was -back in her face again. She pushed it viciously out of her eyes. She -hated its color. It was pale blonde, a real pale blonde. But because -she was getting older and because she was part Italian everyone thought -that she dyed her hair. She wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t have it -colored black. Her eyebrows were dark, thin and dark, and that made the -color of her hair look even more suspicious. - -A sailor she had seen several times during the war had told her that -she had a beautiful figure and she had tried to believe him. She was -too heavy, though. Well, she hadn’t been heavy at that time. At least -not quite so heavy as she was now. She wondered what kind of women -Robert Holton liked. - -“Marjorie,” said Mrs Merrin. That was all Mrs Merrin said as she walked -by. Marjorie Ventusa was glad. One day she would lose her temper and -get fired. - -The mirror had steamed up again. She took her tray and went out into -the dining room. More customers had come. She put glasses of water -and silverware on their tables and took their orders and gave them -instructions in how to order and how to avoid paying extra for what -they wanted. - -Robert Holton was halfway through his breakfast. She looked at the -clock over the kitchen doors. It was twenty-seven minutes after eight -o’clock. She would work very hard now to get her orders taken care of -and then she would have a few minutes to talk to him before he left. -She usually couldn’t talk to him at lunch because he was always with -someone else. - -Marjorie Ventusa traveled quickly back and forth from kitchen to dining -room and back again. Her hair was hopelessly out of shape now and she -was perspiring. - -Finally her last customer was satisfied for the moment. She wandered -casually over to Robert Holton’s table. - -“Breakfast good?” she asked. - -“Never better.” - -“That don’t make it so good.” They laughed. He was always so polite -with her. That was why she liked him, she thought. He was very kind. He -was handsome, too, but that wasn’t as important as being polite. A lot -of fine people were not handsome. - -“What’s in the paper?” she asked. She never quite knew what to talk -about when she was with him. - -“Not much. The same old stuff. Election stuff mostly.” - -“Seems like there’s always an election.” - -“There’re a lot of them.” - -“I almost don’t read any newspapers. I don’t seem to get time to read -them. I’ll bet you read a lot of them.” - -“I have to. I read all about the market.” - -“That’s right, you’re in Wall Street. That must be exciting. Working -there where all those big deals are made.” - -“They don’t make them where I am.” He laughed. “I’m just another -worker.” - -“I thought you were way up in one of the big houses.” - -“Well, sort of a clerk which doesn’t pay much. It’s a good way to -starve.” - -“You ought to do something different. Suppose you marry some girl....” - -“I’m not getting married for a long time.” - -“I suppose,” said Marjorie Ventusa calmly, “that you got some nice -society girl all lined up.” - -Robert Holton shook his head. “I haven’t any girl anywhere.” - -“Isn’t that like life. All the handsome men don’t have girls and they -wonder why so many of us are old maids.” - -“You’re not an old maid yet, Marjorie. By the way, what’s your last -name? As long as I’ve known you I’ve never known your last name.” - -“Ventusa.” She spelled it for him. - -“Italian name?” - -“My father was Italian, my mother was Irish.” - -“That’s a good combination. I knew a lot of pretty girls when I was in -Italy.” - -“Were you there in the war?” - -“I was there over a year.” - -“I always wanted to travel. I guess I’d rather travel than do -anything. My father, he used to tell me stories about Italy. He came -from Sicily. Were you ever in Sicily?” - -“Yes, I was in Sicily.” - -“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” - -“Beautiful.” - -“Must be real messed up now.” - -“Not too bad. The scenery’s still there.” - -“I’m going to go there someday,” said Marjorie Ventusa, knowing that -she never would. - -“You’ll like it.” - -Mrs Merrin was looking at her and she pretended to be busy at his table. - -“Let me get you some more coffee,” she said. She picked up the plates -from his table and put them on her tray. Her arm touched his hand. He -pulled away unconsciously, and she walked back to the kitchen. - -She got a cup of coffee for him. Two other orders were ready for her. -She put them on her tray and returned to the dining room. - -She noticed a girl was walking over to Robert Holton’s table. She had -seen the girl often before. She worked in Robert Holton’s office. -Occasionally they would have lunch together. She was a pretty girl. -Her hair was dark and her skin white. Her lips were full and painted a -deep red. She had a slim figure and slim legs and her eyes were blue, a -deep vivid blue that Marjorie Ventusa envied. The girl spoke to Robert -Holton. He stood up. Then they both sat down. - -Marjorie Ventusa took care of two tables and then she went to Robert -Holton’s table and placed his cup of coffee before him. - -“Good morning,” she said to the pretty girl. - -“Good morning,” said the pretty girl absently. “I’ll have some -grapefruit juice. That’s all I want. I’m reducing,” she said to Robert -Holton and she patted her slim waist. - -“What on earth are you reducing for?” - -“You think I look all right this way?” she asked, pretending surprise. - -Marjorie Ventusa hurried to the kitchen. She hated this pretty girl. -All day long Robert Holton was with her. Perhaps even at night they -were together. She pushed her blonde hair back out of her face. If -only she had been pretty and young. Of course, she had been young but -she had never been pretty. She was far from old now. They said that if -one wanted something badly enough one would get it. That was foolish; -Marjorie Ventusa had never gotten anything she wanted, except a yellow -satin dress. When she was a child she had wanted a yellow satin dress -and her father had bought her one. The dress was in a box in her closet -now; she had not looked at it in fifteen years. She picked up a glass -of grapefruit juice and put it on her tray. - -The pretty girl was laughing when she came back to their table and -Robert Holton was watching her. She wore a gray suit buttoned tightly -across her small breasts. - -“Here’s your grapefruit juice.” - -“Thank you very much,” said the girl, paying no attention to Marjorie -Ventusa, saying the words mechanically. - -The waitress began to clean the table next to Robert Holton’s. She -rubbed the gray damp cloth over the shiny black table-top and she -listened to Robert Holton and the pretty girl as they talked. - -“But Caroline” (her name was Caroline then), “I didn’t know you were -expecting me last night.” - -“Well, we weren’t really. I just thought you might come on over, that’s -all. We had quite a gang. Jimmy Hammond, he was at Yale about the same -time you were.” - -“I went to Harvard.” - -“That’s right, you did. Well, you would’ve liked Jimmy Hammond. He was -in the army, too. And there were a whole lot of people around. I just -thought you’d have liked to come.” - -“I certainly would’ve but I didn’t remember your inviting me.” - -“That’s all right,” said Caroline, drinking her grapefruit juice and -making a face as she did. “God, but this stuff is sour.” - -Marjorie Ventusa, having cleaned the shiny black table-top cleaner than -it had ever been before, turned to another table. She was still close -enough to hear what they said. - -“What did you do last night, Bobby?” She called him Bobby. Marjorie -Ventusa wondered if she would ever be able to call him that. - -“Not a thing. I went home to bed early.” - -“Next time I’ll send you an engraved invitation when I want you to come -to the house.” - -“You do that. What time’s it getting to be?” - -Caroline looked at the clock. “It’s not much after eight-thirty. Let’s -take our time.” - -“We don’t want to be too late.” - -“You haven’t been around long. Nobody gets there on time. What’re you -bucking for, Mr Holton?” - -He grinned at her. Robert Holton had dark blue eyes. Marjorie Ventusa -had never noticed them before. They were beautiful eyes, she thought -suddenly. - -One of the waitresses came over to her and said, “Boy, you sure must -like that guy in the corner.” - -“What do you mean? What you talking about?” - -“Nothing at all. You needn’t get so excited. I was just noticing you -talking to him all the time. I couldn’t help noticing, Marjorie. You -was there so long talking to him.” - -“He comes in here a lot and we talk, that’s all. I hope _you_ -don’t mind.” - -“I don’t mind at all, Marjorie. I was just kidding you.” - -Marjorie Ventusa picked up a cup of coffee and went back to the dining -room. The waitress had irritated her. She didn’t want anyone to think -that she would fall for a man at least ten years younger than she -was. Well, perhaps not ten years. Robert Holton could be thirty. The -difference between thirty and thirty-seven was not so great. - -She walked over to Robert Holton’s table. They were talking. - -“I don’t see what you have against Dick. He’s an awful nice fellow.” - -“I don’t have anything against him. He just doesn’t like me. He thinks -I’m trying to get his job.” - -“Well, are you?” - -Robert Holton smiled. “I don’t want anything; didn’t you know that?” - -“Well, aren’t you the saint. You mean you wouldn’t like to take his -job? Not even if it was offered to you?” - -“I suppose if it were easier to take a job than refuse it I’d take the -job. I’m easy to please.” - -Caroline sighed. “You’re easy to please. I guess that’s what war does -to you.” - -“I was always like that. I was like that at college.” - -“Just lazy?” - -“Just lazy.” - -“Good Lord, it’s almost nine! We have to get out of here.” - -Robert Holton waved to Marjorie Ventusa. She came over to their table -slowly. She didn’t want him to leave any sooner than he had to. - -“Got my check, Marjorie?” - -“I’ll get it for you.” She went to the cashier and had his check -totalled for him. Then she brought it back and he paid her, leaving a -ten-cent tip under his water glass. - -Caroline stood up and put her gray coat about her shoulders. Robert -Holton picked up his trench coat and slung it over his arm. - -“I’ll see you at lunch, Marjorie,” he said. - -“See you,” said Marjorie Ventusa and she watched them as they went out -the door into the bright autumn morning. - -“Say, Marjorie,” said one of her regular customers, “how about some -more coffee.” - -“O.K., O.K.,” she said. - -“When are you going to get those tables cleaned?” said Mrs Merrin who -was back in Marjorie Ventusa’s corner. “I wish you’d try to get them -done right after the customers leave. I wish you’d make some effort, -Marjorie.” - -“I’m sorry,” said Marjorie Ventusa. - -She began to clear Robert Holton’s table. - -“What about my coffee?” asked the customer. “When I going to get it?” - -“Right away.” Marjorie Ventusa finished cleaning Robert Holton’s table. -Almost sadly she pocketed the ten-cent tip which he had left under the -water glass. - - - - - _Chapter Three_ - - -The elevator door opened and Caroline Lawson and Robert Holton stepped -out of it and into the New York office of Heywood and Golden, members -of the New York Stock Exchange and other organizations equally sound. - -The entrance hall was modern and dignified. The walls were clean and -white and there was a thick carpet on the floor. Two heavy leather -couches furnished the entrance. A dark genteel girl sat behind a -reception desk. - -“Good morning, Caroline,” she said in a nasal voice. “Good morning, -Bob.” - -“Hello, Ruth,” said Robert Holton, and Caroline Lawson smiled at her. - -“Anything new?” asked Robert Holton. - -“Not a thing, Bob, not a thing. Everything’s just as dull as ever. Of -course, it’s still early.” - -“Sure,” said Caroline, amused at the thought of anything interesting -happening to them, “the day’s just started.” - -“Is the boss in yet?” asked Robert Holton. He was terribly afraid -of getting in bad, thought Caroline, looking at him. He was rather -cowardly but nice. Perhaps having been in the war had changed him. -Perhaps he would improve. - -Ruth shook her head. “No, he’s not in yet. He hasn’t come in yet. He’s -always late, Mr Murphy is.” Mr Murphy was the head of the Statistical -Section where Robert Holton worked. Caroline was Mr Murphy’s secretary. - -“Well, I’m glad,” said Robert Holton. - -“You certainly _are_ eager,” said Ruth, looking up at him, her -head slightly to one side: the way that movie actresses looked. - -Robert Holton laughed. “I guess I am.” - -“And after all you’ve been through, too! Why, if I’d seen what you’ve -seen I wouldn’t worry what nob ... anybody thought.” - -“That’s what I used to say,” said Robert Holton. - -“Come on, Bob,” said Caroline. “Let’s get back to the salt mine.” - -Ruth nodded to them and they walked into a long room. On one side of -the room were the doors of offices; the other side was covered with -tremendous pictures of factories and ships and railroads. The pictures -were Mr Golden’s idea. He wanted to explain to customers the real -meaning of the stocks they were buying. Mr Golden always wanted people -to feel that the stock market was a creative, a productive thing. - -Women of all ages sat typing at small desks in the long room. The light -was indirect and modern and very even. One could see that Heywood and -Golden was a well-organized house. - -People murmured good mornings to Caroline and Robert Holton as they -walked together between the desks. At the end of the room there was a -glass door behind which were a large blackboard, ticker tape machines, -and men recording the prices of the various stocks. - -“Look busy, don’t they?” commented Caroline. - -“They certainly do. I wouldn’t have that job for anything.” - -“I think it’d be sort of exciting.” - -“Too much running around for me. I like to sit still.” - -“It takes,” said Caroline, “all kinds to make up a world.” - -“Isn’t that lucky?” said Robert Holton and Caroline didn’t know whether -he was laughing at her or not. Sometimes he bothered her. She liked -him. Almost everybody did because he was nice-looking and quiet. He was -weak, though, she thought. She didn’t like a man to be weak. She wanted -someone that she could lean on. Caroline Lawson was one of those pretty -girls who could never bear weak men and yet, by nature, hated those who -were stronger. - -They stood and watched the ticker tape machines through the glass door. -A tall white-faced boy was slowly marking figures on the blackboard. -He stood on a small stepladder and as he wrote the figures his left -foot tapped regularly and rhythmically on the top step of the ladder. -Caroline wondered what tune he was making. - -“You like to dance, don’t you?” she asked suddenly. - -“What? Dance? Sure, I like to dance. Why?” - -“Oh, I don’t know. I was just thinking, that’s all. I like to dance a -whole lot. When I was at college we used to have wonderful dances.” - -Robert Holton laughed. “That wasn’t so long ago, when you were at -college. Don’t you go out any more?” - -“Of course I do. You know I do, all the time, and I’m not trying to get -you to ask me out either.” - -He laughed at her and that was all. - -Caroline looked at him and tried to guess what he was thinking. He was -probably thinking that she was very pretty and that he would like to -ask her to go out with him. She wouldn’t go out with him, he knew. Not -now, not after she had said these things. Later, perhaps, when they had -forgotten the words she had said. Caroline sighed as she thought of her -own strength and of his weakness. - -“Let’s get back to the office,” said Holton. - -They walked down a short corridor. At the end of the corridor was the -Statistical room. Here a dozen men and women worked at desks. They -compiled figures for the executives and the customers and everyone else -in the house. - -Through a noise of automatic welcomes, Caroline and Robert Holton went -into the office. Most of the desks were on the side of the room away -from the windows. The windowed end of the room was protected by a -railing; behind the railing was Mr Murphy’s desk and at a respectful -distance from his desk was Caroline Lawson’s. - -“See you later, Bob,” said Caroline and she opened the door of the -railing and went into the windowed section of the room. She let the -door swing creakily shut and went to her desk. Glancing sideways, she -watched Robert Holton go to his desk at the other end of the office. -Then she sat down. - -The desk was neat. A new blotter was in the center. An inkwell, without -ink in it, and a penholder, without a pen in it, held the top of the -blotter down. A slim imitation silver vase sat on one corner of the -desk. Occasionally Mr Murphy would put a flower in the vase and she -would smile at him when he did that and Mr Murphy would wink at her. - -One of the two phones on her desk rang. She picked up the receiver. -“Hello?” Someone asked for Mr Murphy. “He isn’t in right now; shall I -have him call you? You’ll call back later? Thank you.” She cleared her -throat, cleared her professional telephone voice away. - -She moved the blotter to one end of the desk. Then she lifted the front -of her desk and a typewriter appeared. She ran her fingers over the -keys, professionally, like a pianist before he begins to play. - -She opened the left-hand top drawer of the desk. This was her personal -drawer. Here were several compacts in various stages of use. A slightly -crushed box of pale green Kleenex, a carton of cigarettes, and a box of -fairly expensive candy. The lid of the candy box was off and Caroline -Lawson decided that, since her breakfast had been small, a little candy -wouldn’t hurt her. She picked the largest piece and put it in her mouth. - -“Good morning, Caroline. How’s the girl?” It was Mr Murphy. - -Caroline swallowed quickly. “Fine, fine, Mr Murphy. How’re you today?” - -“Me? I’m just fine today. Certainly is a wonderful day today. Makes -you feel like going out in the country somewhere. Out to Long Island -or some place like that. Go some place to get away from the city.” Mr -Murphy sighed. He had spent all his life in the city and he wanted to -go live in the country. He would not like the country, of course, but -then he would never leave the city and it made no difference. - -“Look what I brought you,” said Mr Murphy. He pulled a slightly rumpled -white carnation from his buttonhole. “We had a big blowout at the Astor -last night. It was quite a show we had.” - -“Thank you,” said Caroline, smiling at him. She smelled the white -flower; a strong odor of cigar smoke spoiled the scent. “Thank you,” -she said again and she put the white flower in the tall vase. - -“Any calls? Anything new?” - -“You had one call. No message, though. The man said he’d call back -later.” - -“Good.” Mr Murphy sat down at his desk. - -There was a pile of letters on his desk. Very precisely he cut the -letters open one by one. Caroline watched him with a mixture of -admiration and dislike. - -Oliver L. Murphy was a tall man. He was heavy but not in the usual -manner. His arms and legs and neck were long and thin and his hips were -narrow; his stomach and chest, however, were massive. He held himself -erect. His face was red as all Irishmen’s faces are supposed to be. His -eyes and hair were dark and he had a thick curved nose. Mr Murphy’s -clothes fitted him well. They were usually of a somber color and always -correct. His cuffs were beautifully starched. - -For five years Caroline Lawson had been his secretary. Her first job -had been as his secretary; her last job, too, she thought to herself: -she would be married soon and that would be the end of typing and -putting cigar-scented flowers in fake silver vases. Caroline Lawson was -not sure whom she would marry but she would certainly get married to -someone soon. - -Mr Murphy finished reading his letters. - -“Anything important?” asked Caroline. - -Mr Murphy shook his head. “Not much of anything. We got one letter here -I ought to answer.” - -“I’ll get my pad.” Caroline picked up a lightly ruled pad of paper -from her desk. Then she went over and sat down in a chair beside Mr -Murphy’s desk. She sat close to the window so that the morning sunlight -would warm her. As she sat down bits of dust vibrated up into the -sunlight from her chair seat. The motes of dust danced and glittered -and then slowly sank along the beams of light to the floor. - -“I’m ready,” said Caroline Lawson. - -Mr Murphy cleared his throat and looked helplessly about him. It was -his usual beginning. Then he picked up the letter he was to answer. He -waited a moment for the words to come to him. - -“Dear,” he began. She made the figure for the word. He paused, studying -the ceiling. He began again, “Dear Mr Lachum, In reply to your letter -of the 16th, etc., etc....” He stopped and closed his eyes; this seemed -to help. “I cannot, I fear, agree with you in your analysis of certain -trends now at work ... no, now abroad ... in the financial world.” His -voice became firm and concise, “Although I have the greatest personal -esteem for the opinions of yourself and associates, uh, in re to the -stock market, I must, in this instance, disagree with you, for I am of -the opinion that this is a rising market and will continue to be so. -All statistics at hand ... no, available, point to just that. Hoping to -hear from you again, and so on.” Mr Murphy stopped and opened his eyes. -He looked pleased and exhilarated. - -“That’s a very nice letter, Mr Murphy. Knowing Mr Lachum, I think you -were certainly nice to him.” - -“Well, it never does to offend people, Caroline. That’s a rule with me. -That’s something I’ve always followed. I wouldn’t be here today if I -hadn’t been that way.” He paused and they both thought of a world where -there was no Mr Murphy because he had offended people. - -“All right, let’s hear that letter back.” - -Caroline read the letter. Mr Murphy listened, pleased. - -“That’s fine,” he said when she had finished. “Type it up please.” - -Caroline went back to her desk. The sunlight and the glittering -dust were almost out of the room now. Soon they would turn on the -fluorescent lights over their desks. Caroline sometimes wished that the -morning would last all day. - -Caroline put a piece of paper in her typewriter. She started to type; -then she remembered that all letters must be done in triplicate. She -pulled the sheet of paper out of the machine. Wearily, enjoying her -weariness, she arranged more paper in the typewriter. - -Her fingers moved swiftly over the keys. She made rhythms as she typed, -as the keys clattered on the white paper. - -In a few minutes she was finished. - -“Very nice,” said Mr Murphy, looking over her shoulder. “Very nice, -indeed. I’ll sign that now.” - -“O.K.” Caroline took the papers out of the typewriter. She removed -the carbon. Mr Murphy signed the letter carefully. During the last -five years Caroline had watched Mr Murphy’s signature change. It was -becoming more original; the upstrokes were stronger and the “M” was -becoming regal. - -She blotted his signature. “What’ll I do next?” she asked. - -“I expect you’d better get on those reports for Mr Golden. He was -asking for them yesterday.” - -“What _does_ he think we are? We were only told to do those -reports last week. That takes a lot of time. I don’t see what he’s -always in such a rush for.” - -“Well, you know how some people are,” said Mr Murphy, meaning much more -than he said. - -Caroline nodded wisely. Mr Murphy was often opposed to Mr Golden’s -business ideas. Mr Heywood, who had inherited a lot of money and -never bothered much with business, was Mr Murphy’s friend. Mr Golden -was a promoter who had become a partner several years before. The -conservative element of the house stood firmly against him but his hold -over Mr Heywood was equally firm. - -“I’ll get to work on it right away,” said Caroline. - -“Good, I think I’ll go up to the front office. If there’re any calls -tell them I’ll call back.” - -“Yes, Mr Murphy.” - -Smoothly Mr Murphy moved across the room. All of his movements were -smooth and swift. He opened the swinging gate that separated him from -his staff. They didn’t look up from their work as he walked between the -desks toward the hall. - -Caroline took more paper out of her desk and put it in her typewriter. -She opened a black notebook. Slowly she began to copy. After a minute -or so she stopped. She wasn’t concentrating and she didn’t know what -was wrong. - -Caroline Lawson leaned back in her swivel chair and her arms dropped -limply at her sides. The sunlight was gone out of the room and she -could no longer see the dust in the light. - -Far away she could hear the sounds of automobile horns blowing, of -newsboy shouts in the street; and, from time to time, their building -would rumble as a train passed underground. - -Closer to her were the sounds of the office. The clattering of -typewriters, the constant low buzz of voices; these were the sounds of -her days. Caroline was dissatisfied. - -Across the room she could see Robert Holton writing something in a -black book. She pitied him because he seemed to really like what he was -doing. But then it was better than being a soldier: probably anything -was better than that. But then Robert Holton wasn’t a woman. That made -a lot of difference, thought Caroline. He couldn’t be depressed by -things the way she was. Men were never sensitive about such things. She -had a _malaise_. Having thought of this word, she was pleased with -it. The word described her sudden fits of depression. - -Robert Holton closed the book on his desk. He looked about him -uncertainly. Then he stood up and walked toward her. He was -presentable, she thought. Certainly better looking than anyone else in -Heywood and Golden, but he was not what she wanted at all. Also, there -was some doubt in her mind that Robert Holton was interested in her. - -“How’s it going, Caroline?” - -“I’m slowed up.” She sighed loudly and wilted in her chair. - -“That’s too bad,” he said. She didn’t answer. She was quiet for a -moment. He watched her and she enjoyed his watching her. Finally he -said, “Murphy’s in a good mood today.” - -Caroline nodded. “He’s real happy today. He wants to go out in the -country. He always wants to do that when he’s feeling good.” - -“He’s some character,” said Robert Holton. He sat down on the railing. - -“It would be nice,” said Caroline thoughtfully, “to go out in the -country; have a picnic maybe.” - -“Sure, that would be nice, but you couldn’t do that.” - -“No, I guess _you_ couldn’t.” Caroline was contemptuous but -because she was a very pretty and popular girl she didn’t show it. She -was sensitive herself and that was what she wanted in life: a man who -was as sensitive as she, someone who would respond to her moods. She -looked at Robert Holton. He was sitting uneasily on the railing. No, -he could never understand her great sadness. Perhaps no one would ever -understand her. Caroline was sad, for it is a sad thing to be both -pretty and sensitive. - -“You’re going out tonight, aren’t you?” - -Robert Holton nodded. “I’m going to a cocktail party; I’m going to Mrs -Raymond Stevanson’s.” - -“Oh, is that so? You’re really going around in high circles. I guess -I shouldn’t be associating with high society like you.” She had meant -to speak lightly and humorously but somehow the words had come out all -wrong and there was a bitterness in her voice that embarrassed her. - -Robert Holton looked surprised; he smiled finally. “Well, it never -hurts to know these people. She was a friend of my mother’s,” he -explained, trying to explain these things, to make himself appear like -her; she hated him for his kindness. - -“Those people are O.K., I guess,” said Caroline. She started to say -something about her own family, some improbable but soothing lie, -something to prove to herself that she was the same as Mrs Stevanson -whose picture was so often in the papers. But she said nothing. She -played with the ribbon of her typewriter. - -“I hate staying in one place,” said Caroline, after a moment of silence. - -“It’s no fun traveling,” said Robert Holton. “Moving around all the -time; that’s what I didn’t like in the army. No, traveling’s pretty -lousy.” - -“That kind is, but I mean to go ... well, you know ... where you want -to go, that’s what I mean. I don’t like sitting around here day after -day. I want to go some place.” - -He shrugged. “A lot of people do, I guess. Marjorie, you know, the -waitress, she wants to go to Sicily.” - -“Well, that’s different. I mean she’s not ... well, you know what I -mean, she’s probably happy doing what she’s doing.” - -“I don’t see why,” said Robert Holton. They thought of Marjorie Ventusa -for a moment then they didn’t think of her again. - -Robert Holton shifted his position on the railing. Caroline looked -about the familiar room. The older women were typing and using their -adding machines; the younger women were watching Robert Holton; and the -younger men (there were three of them) looked up occasionally to see -what Caroline was doing. She posed a little for them. She didn’t pose -haughtily, though. Caroline was too clever for that. She just looked -girlish and rather innocent. None of them could understand her sadness -and her longing. It pleased her to think how well she hid herself. Not -even Robert Holton, talking to her now, could realize these things. - -“No,” said Robert Holton, “no, I want to stay in one place.” - -“You don’t want to be doing the same thing all the time, do you?” - -“I don’t know, I’d like to make more money.” - -“I think you’re crazy,” she said. She watched her fingers as they -tapped lightly on the keys of the typewriter. Her hands weren’t quite -what she wanted them to be. She thought of them as long and slender and -faintly exotic; actually her hands were short and square and not very -clean. The red enamel was beginning to chip off her thumbnails. - -“Why’m I crazy? Because I want to make more money?” - -“Not because of that, of course. Just because.” - -“Oh.” - -Robert Holton shifted his position on the railing. Caroline suddenly -didn’t want him to go. Then Richard Kuppelton got up from his desk near -the door and came over to them. - -“Why, hello, Dick,” said Caroline. - -“Good morning, good morning,” said Dick heartily. He was a very hearty -person and Caroline liked him. He was so different from Robert Holton. -Dick always seemed the same; he acted the same, anyway. Caroline could -almost always tell what he was going to say and that was a lot better -than being around a person who never said the right things. Dick wasn’t -sensitive, however. He and Robert Holton were the same that way but -then Caroline couldn’t have everything. - -“How’s every little thing?” asked Dick Kuppelton. - -“Fine,” said Robert Holton. Caroline only smiled; she smiled with her -eyes as well as her mouth. It was important to smile that way. - -“Been pretty slow today,” said Dick. “Not much business. I think the -market’s falling off.” Someone had told him that, thought Caroline, -delighted with her perception. - -“It may be,” said Robert Holton without much interest. - -“We should have a big rush soon. I’m doing a report now. Well, not -really a report; I’ve been getting some statistics on aircraft stock -ready for the front office. It’s been some job.” He shook his head to -show the largeness of the job. - -“I’ve got a report like that to do, too,” said Caroline. - -“Something for Golden?” - -“Yes.” - -Dick nodded knowingly. “Some report, I bet.” - -“It’s certainly long,” said Caroline, pointing to the notebook on her -desk. - -Robert Holton got off the railing and stretched. “I better get to -work,” he said. “Murphy might be back soon.” He went back to his desk. - -“He’s real eager,” said Dick unpleasantly. - -“What? Well, I don’t know about that. He’s sort of funny. He doesn’t -want to get anywhere but he doesn’t want to get in bad. I don’t know; -he’s awful funny.” - -“I’ve seen those guys before,” said Dick. “I know that type. They come -in a place and get in good with the top people. Then they get your job. -That’s just what he’s up to.” - -Caroline smiled and said nothing. She was pretty and popular and she -couldn’t always, therefore, say what she thought. She knew, though, -that Dick Kuppelton, who had been with Heywood and Golden for six -years, disliked Holton. Mr Murphy had never liked Kuppelton and at the -end of the year changes were always made and Robert Holton might take -Dick’s place. Things were very complicated, thought Caroline. - -“I don’t think he’s that smart,” said Caroline. - -“I think you’re wrong.” Dick started to straddle the railing, then he -changed his mind and leaned against it. He was a large man. He was -thirty and pink and blond. He wore large rimless glasses which made -his face look clean and blank. He enjoyed what he was doing, thought -Caroline. Everyone enjoyed working except herself. - -“I’ve got to do some typing,” said Caroline. She wanted him to go away. - -“Certainly; I suppose I’d better be getting back.” He stood up straight -and stretched. “Well, back to work,” he said. - -“See you,” said Caroline. Dick was so dependable: you always knew what -to expect. - -Caroline coughed. Her cough had a consumptive sound to it which rather -appealed to her. When she was a young girl she had seen a play about a -beautiful woman with white flowers and a cough. The beautiful woman had -been so interesting that Caroline had never forgotten her although she -had forgotten the play. Caroline coughed again, quietly, dramatically. - -“How’s that report coming?” Oliver L. Murphy had returned from the -front office. - -“Pretty well, Mr Murphy.” - -“Had quite a session with Mr Golden.” - -“I bet,” said Caroline with sympathy. “I’ll bet he was something.” - -“Well, I handled him O.K. today. He’s not so hard to get along with. Of -course, he’s got some queer ideas. Those people often have.” - -“Isn’t that the truth.” Caroline arranged the paper in her typewriter. -Mr Murphy leaned over and smelled the carnation in the imitation silver -vase. - -“Smells nice, don’t it?” - -“It certainly does, Mr Murphy.” She smiled. Mr Murphy went back to -his desk and Caroline typed. Several times as she worked she coughed, -quietly, almost to herself. - - - - - _Chapter Four_ - - -Richard Kuppelton left Caroline reluctantly. He liked her because she -was pretty and much more sensible than the other pretty girls he had -known. - -He stopped at his desk. It was a dull olive color. His different books -of statistics were piled neatly on one corner; notebooks and papers -were scattered over the top and it looked as if he were busy. - -Kuppelton decided not to work, not just now. From the top drawer of -his desk he took a magazine. It had a vivid cover of a large-breasted -young woman being carried into a machine by an octopus. He enjoyed this -magazine’s stories very much. - -He slipped the magazine under his arm, the cover toward his side; and -then, busily, he left the room for the lavatory. - -There was something cozy about a lavatory, he thought as he opened the -door marked “Men.” No one was inside and he would be able to sing. -The room was large, white and very clean. The urinals, four of them, -stood polished and shining, like soldiers on guard. A thin waterfall -constantly descended down their white enamel surfaces; the smell of -disinfectant was in the air, but not too strongly. - -Richard Kuppelton glanced at himself quickly in one of the four mirrors -which shone over the four wash basins. Then he walked to one of the -four black-doored stalls. He chose the one nearest the wall. There was -strategy in his choice as well as habit, for the light was over this -stall. - -With the feeling of having come home after a long journey, Richard -Kuppelton opened the black door and stepped inside. Then he closed the -door and locked it. He was completely alone now; no one could disturb -him and he was safe. - -Deliberately he hung up his coat and then, after some preparation, he -descended with a sigh upon the cool smooth seat. He relaxed happily. - -On the subway he had started a story called “The Mad Moon Maidens”; -unfortunately, it had been a little dull and he had decided not -to finish it. He thumbed through the rough pages of his magazine. -Grotesque black and white drawings decorated the pages. There were -monsters and ghouls, beautiful women (usually screaming) and lean young -men with pongee hats. The title “Satanic Underworld” appealed to him -and he started to read. - -After only a few minutes, however, he found himself studying the tile -floor. Black and white tile in neat one-two-three pattern across the -floor; he liked things that were black or white. The pattern was -familiar to him and gave him a further feeling of being home. - -Great ideas came to Richard Kuppelton enthroned. Here in this retreat -the entire world assumed a pattern of great simplicity. All problems -could be rendered answerable and in this world he was sovereign. The -lavatory was his study. He thought of Robert Holton: the person who -currently threatened his career. - -Robert Holton was deceitful; he knew that. On the surface he appeared -simple and a little shy but Kuppelton knew differently. Little things -that the others had not noticed he noticed. For instance, Holton -was always trying to get friendly with Mr Murphy. He always called -him “sir”; treated him as if he were a colonel or something in the -army. That was another thing: the army. Holton had been a soldier and -Kuppelton had not. Most of the others in the office had not been in -the war either. Both Mr Heywood and Mr Golden had declared that they -would do all that they could for the veteran. So far this hadn’t been -very much, but still it was their intention. Richard Kuppelton wished -suddenly that he could stay forever in this shiny black stall with the -tile floor. - -There was a noise in the lavatory. Someone had come in. Footsteps -clattered on the floor. The door to the stall next to his opened and -someone sat down. - -He wondered who it was. The person wore plain brown shoes: he could -see them through the foot-high space beneath the stall partition. -This person also wore brown trousers. Richard Kuppelton thought for a -moment, strained to remember who it could be. Then he remembered. - -“Hello, Bob,” said Richard Kuppelton. - -“What? That you, Dick?” - -“The same.” - -“You catching up on your reading?” - -Richard Kuppelton closed his magazine guiltily. “No, no. Just nature.” - -“It’s a good place to think.” - -“Well, I suppose it is.” - -“What’s wrong with Caroline today?” asked Robert Holton. - -“I haven’t the slightest idea. I didn’t notice anything wrong with her, -did you?” - -“Yes, I thought she was sort of irritable.” - -“I didn’t notice it.” Richard Kuppelton sighed. He was beginning to -get uncomfortable, sitting on the hard seat. He was, also, a little -surprised that Holton was as aware of Caroline as this. “Caroline’s a -lot of fun,” he said. - -“Yes.” - -“She’s a lot of fun to go out on a party with. She can be real funny.” - -“I suppose so.” - -“You ever go out with her?” - -“Not really.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“I never went to a party with her. We had dinner once.” - -“She didn’t want to go dancing?” - -“No.” - -“That’s funny.” Richard Kuppelton tried to remember whether he had ever -taken Caroline out and they had not danced. No, they had always gone to -a dance. He wondered whether she liked Robert Holton better than him. -This was a new thought and even more unpleasant than the suspicion that -Robert Holton was trying to get his job. “She just likes to talk?” - -“Yes, I guess everybody does.” - -“That’s right, I guess.” Richard Kuppelton studied Holton’s plain tan -shoes gloomily. One of the things he could not understand was why -Robert Holton had come to work in this office. It was rumored that he -was a friend of Mr Heywood’s but no one had ever been able to prove -that. He had gone to Harvard before the war and to Richard Kuppelton -that was the most important thing about him. It was also suspicious; -he could not understand why a person with that education would do -this job in Heywood and Golden unless--and Richard Kuppelton became -gloomier--unless he were to be promoted over everyone. - -“Looks like there’ll be a lot of changes after the first,” said -Kuppelton. - -“They tell me there usually are.” - -“I suppose you want to end up in the other office, being one of the -contact people.” - -“I don’t care much. Whatever they want to do. I’d like to move up, of -course.” - -“We all would.” - -Robert Holton mumbled something and stood up. Kuppelton watched the tan -shoes as they moved about the stall. There was a swirling of water and -Robert Holton left the lavatory, whistling. - -Richard Kuppelton studied the tile again. It seemed, somehow, less -comforting, less private since Holton had been here. He tried to read -again but “Satanic Underworld” had lost its attraction. The seat was -becoming harder every minute and he would have to leave soon. - -Then he remembered that the acoustics were unusually good in this -lavatory. In a low voice he sang an Irish ballad which he had learned -in school. His voice came to him pure and vibrant and like no other -voice that had ever sung. He finished with a low note, although, -strictly speaking, the ballad called for a high note. He sang a popular -song next. It was not as great a success as the first because he only -knew the chorus. The words that he made up, however, were quite good -enough. - -At last, his songs finished, Richard Kuppelton stood up. He ached -slightly from the strain of sitting on the narrow seat. Deliberately he -arranged his trousers, deploring slightly the heaviness of his waist as -he did. - -The sound of swirling water was in his ears as he crossed the lavatory -to the wash basin. Deliberately--he was a deliberate person--he washed -his hands. He dried his hands on a paper towel and then, like a king -abdicating, he moved slowly but deliberately to the door. With a sigh -Richard Kuppelton left the lavatory. - -The office had not changed. Mr Murphy was sitting behind his railing, -smoking a cigar and reading a letter. Caroline was typing. Robert -Holton was copying a row of figures into his notebook. The other men -and women in the office were working busily. - -Richard Kuppelton sat down at his desk. He enjoyed the sensation of -being a part of this great house. Neatly he arranged his books of -tables and statistics across the top of his desk. The various books -were open at aircraft stock. His statistics would form the basis of a -report which would be used in an overall survey of aircraft stock to be -used by the front office. His responsibilities were heavy. - -He took his fountain pen out of his pocket. It was leaking a little and -he had to handle it carefully. Slowly, with pleasure, he copied the -figures from the books. He wrote the numbers carefully, making them -round and legible. When he had finished copying all his numbers they -would be typed up by one of the stenographers in the office. - -A tall white-faced boy in a blue suit came into the room. He went to -Richard Kuppelton's desk and put some papers on it. - -“Good morning, Jim,” said Kuppelton heartily. “How’s the boy?” - -“Fine. I think Golden’s coming this way.” - -“Really? Wonder what he wants.” - -“Hard to say. He always wants something.” - -“That’s his privilege,” said Kuppelton righteously. - -“I suppose so,” said Jim. - -The white-faced boy went on to the next desk, handing out letters and -inter-office memoranda. - -Richard Kuppelton put his fountain pen down carefully. There were -several letters for him. He opened one of them and started to read. - -He had read only a few lines when Mr Golden came into the office. -Even without looking up from his letter Richard Kuppelton could have -told that someone from the front office had arrived. The typewriters -clattered more loudly. The usual low buzz of voices died away, and he -could hear Mr Murphy’s swivel chair being pushed back from his desk as -he stood up to welcome the visitor from the front office. Kuppelton put -his letter under the blotter and then he looked up casually. - -Benjamin Franklin Golden stood behind Mr Murphy’s railing. He stood -very erect, his eyes moving from desk to desk as he studied the office. -He was a short man and plump. His eyes were small and black and shiny. -Mr Golden had iron-gray hair which he allowed to grow a little longer -than necessary. He was proud to have kept his hair. He had a small nose -and a rather foolish little mouth and he looked more like a South -American or Italian or something like that, thought Kuppelton. - -He pretended to write figures in his notebook, while he listened -carefully to what Mr Golden was saying to Mr Murphy. - -“Everything all right here, Murphy?” Mr Golden had a high thin voice. - -“Yes, sir, we’re getting your reports out. I’ll have the special one -for you this afternoon.” - -“That’s good. I really need that report. That’s an important one. Some -of our big steel clients are interested in it. I know you’ve done a -good job on it.” There was almost a threat in his voice. It was well -known that the two did not like each other. - -“Well, I’ve got our best girl, I’ve got Caroline here typing it.” He -waved at Caroline who looked up and smiled at Mr Golden who smiled back -at her. Richard Kuppelton wondered what Mrs Golden was like. - -“I’m sure she’ll do a good job. How’s that aircraft stock report -coming?” - -“Kuppelton’s doing it.” Mr Murphy pointed to him. - -Mr Golden nodded. “I’ll be interested to see it.” Richard Kuppelton -copied figures quickly. - -“Should be a good survey,” said Mr Murphy. “Is there going to be a -board meeting this morning? You said they hadn’t decided earlier.” - -“Oh, yes, I almost forgot; there’ll be a meeting at eleven-thirty.” Mr -Golden had an irritatingly brusque manner. - -“Fine,” said Mr Murphy and he made a note of it on the pad on his desk. - -Mr Golden didn’t seem to want to go. He looked around the room again. -He looked at Robert Holton and said something to Mr Murphy which -Kuppelton couldn’t hear. Mr Murphy smiled and nodded. - -Mr Golden finally opened the door of the railing. “See you at the -meeting, Murphy.” - -“Yes, sir.” - -Mr Golden hurried out of the office. There was an immediate change -in the sounds of the room after he had left. The hum of voices began -again. Richard Kuppelton put down his fountain pen. - -Caroline and Mr Murphy were talking together and laughing. Robert -Holton was still working quietly at his desk. The women of the office -talked about Mr Golden in low voices. - -Richard Kuppelton wondered what Mr Golden had said to Mr Murphy about -Robert Holton. He looked at Robert Holton with dislike. - -“O.K.,” said Kuppelton, “Mr Golden’s gone, you can stop working.” - -Robert Holton put down his notebook and smiled. “It doesn’t hurt,” he -said. “It doesn’t hurt to look busy.” - -“Oh, no, I wasn’t meaning to criticize.” - -“I didn’t think you were. Did you hear what they were talking about?” - -This was malicious, Richard Kuppelton knew; it would have been very -hard for Holton not to have heard. “Oh, they were just talking about -reports.” - -“That’s what I guessed.” He started to work again. - -“You live uptown, don’t you?” remarked Kuppelton. - -“Yes. I’ve got a room in a hotel.” - -“That’s funny, I thought you lived with your family or something. I -thought Caroline said something about it.” - -“My father used to live here. He lives in Boston now. He used to work -here but he retired when I got out of the army.” - -Richard Kuppelton nodded. “That’s right, I remember your telling me -that once. Me, I live with all my family in Queens. We all live there. -I wish sometimes that I lived alone.” - -“It’s not much fun, living alone,” said Robert Holton. - -“Think you’ll get married soon?” - -“I don’t think so.” - -“I think _I_ might,” said Richard Kuppelton weightily; he had no -one in mind, though; except possibly Caroline. - -“I guess it’s a good idea if you’ve got the right person,” said Robert -Holton. - -“That’s very true.” They thought of this a moment. Each thought of it -seriously and each regarded it distantly. Richard Kuppelton had no real -desire to be married. He supposed that Robert Holton felt the same. - -“I wonder,” said Kuppelton subtly, “what the conference is going to -be about this afternoon. I wonder if it’s about promotions in the -departments.” - -“I haven’t any idea.” - -“Since the war, seniority doesn’t make much difference.” - -“I thought it did.” - -Kuppelton shook his head, convinced of Holton’s insincerity. For weeks -now everyone had discussed the new policy and everyone had watched the -veterans in the different offices, especially Holton; it was expected -that they would all be promoted: in any event Holton would be. - -“No, it doesn’t make a bit of difference.” - -Robert Holton smiled. He had small white teeth and an agreeable smile -which Kuppelton resented. “That’s good news for me. I haven’t been here -very long you know.” - -“Oh, yes, I know,” and Kuppelton laughed loudly to show that he was -friendly and that it made no difference to him who was promoted. - -He glanced toward the windows. Mr Murphy caught his eye and motioned to -him. Quickly Richard Kuppelton got to his feet and walked across the -room to the railing. He was careful not to let the gate slam when he -came into Mr Murphy’s presence. - -“Yes, sir?” - -“I just wanted to check with you on that aircraft stock report. I just -wanted to make sure it was coming along well.” - -“I’ve been working on it right along, Mr Murphy. They’ll start typing -it up tomorrow.” - -Murphy compressed his lips and nodded slowly. “Mr Golden was asking for -it. I wanted to be sure, Dick.” - -Kuppelton was suddenly glad that Mr Murphy had called him by his first -name. He did this only when he was well pleased or when he wanted -something. - -“It’s been quite a job getting those things together but I finally ... -got them together.” - -“I know how it is. How’s your family these days?” - -“They’re pretty well. My mother’s been better. Her legs don’t bother -her so much now.” - -“That’s good. Arthritis is pretty bad. I had a grandmother who had it -once.” - -“It’s pretty bad,” agreed Richard Kuppelton. - -They both paused and wondered what to say next. Kuppelton began to -edge toward the gate. Murphy stood up. “Let me see that thing as soon -as you get it done.” - -“I certainly will.” - -Mr Murphy turned to Caroline who was typing at her desk. “I’m going to -be in conference for a while,” he said. “Take care of the calls, will -you?” - -“Yes, Mr Murphy.” - -“Big conference?” asked Kuppelton when Murphy had gone. - -“I don’t know,” said Caroline and she stopped typing. “They were -talking about it. Something to do with policy, I think.” - -Caroline got up from her desk and stretched. She had nice slim legs, -Kuppelton noticed. He wondered if his mother would like her. It was -important to him to have his mother like his future wife--if he ever -had one. She had been wonderful about the other girls he had liked but -somehow they had never been quite what she thought his wife should be. -He was her favorite son and he could not disappoint her, naturally. - -“I guess that leaves me out,” he said wearily, hoping she would give -him some good news. - -“Well, I wouldn’t worry too much,” she said, a little coldly he -thought, “you’ve got a good job now.” - -“Well, you’re right about that,” he said emphatically. - -“Oh, I know I am. Bob’s the fair-haired boy these days,” she added. - -“I expect he is.” - -Caroline walked to the window and looked down at the crowded street. -“There really are a lot of people in this town,” she said in a distant -voice. - -“There sure are.” - -“Do you ever wonder about all those people ... down there?” - -This was the sort of talk that made Richard Kuppelton nervous. He hated -it when people started asking him vague questions to which there were -no sensible answers. “No, I can’t say that I do.” - -She turned around and looked at him then, looked at him rather sadly, -he thought. “I’ve got work to do,” was all she said. - -“See you, Caroline.” - -Robert Holton was leaning back in his chair. - -“Pretty dull, isn’t it?” commented Dick. - -“The army was a lot duller.” - -“I thought that was one thing that it wasn’t ... dull.” - -Robert Holton chuckled. “This is a lot better.” - -“Don’t you miss moving around?” - -He paused before he replied and Kuppelton wondered what the truth -really was; however, Robert Holton only said, “No, no, I like staying -in one place.” - -Richard Kuppelton turned back to his books of figures. He wondered -helplessly, as he wrote, how anyone could be as deceitful as Robert -Holton. It was obvious to him that Holton would get the job he was -to have gotten and he certainly could not get this job without being -deceitful. Richard Kuppelton was worried about this. He was also -worried because he found himself hating Robert Holton and his mother -would never have approved of that. - - - - - _Chapter Five_ - - -The ulcer was the most important thing. - -After the ulcer his wife, and then his job, and finally his children. -These were Mr Murphy’s interests. At the moment the ulcer was more -important to him than all the others together. - -Ever since Mr Murphy could remember, he had had pains in his stomach. -Not really bad pains: just unpleasant sensations. In recent years this -had gotten worse. A month before, a doctor examined him and said that -he had an ulcer. The doctor was very serious and there was talk of -further tests. Then Mr Murphy read a picture magazine article on cancer. - -He did not suspect cancer: he knew. The doctor, although he had -been rather grave, had said nothing about cancer, but Mr Murphy was -confident he had it. He had tried to do everything right, to cure -himself with bicarbonate of soda and other medicines but the pains not -only didn’t go away but they got worse when he thought about them. - -He pushed his fist into his stomach for a moment and felt the pain -under his fingers. He cursed himself for having gone to the party the -night before. - -As he walked through his office he wished that he were home in bed. It -would have been harder, of course, to stay home, because his wife was -not very good with an illness. She had a tendency to become hysterical -if she had to do anything unusual. No, it was better to be here at the -office. To be here even if he was dying. This last thought made him -uncomfortable and he put it out of his mind. - -He looked at his watch--eleven-fifteen. The meeting would begin soon. -Mr Golden insisted that all meetings begin on time. - -Mr Murphy left his office. As he walked through the rooms he was -pleased to have everyone speak to him politely. He was a person of -importance here and he had become this all by himself with no help from -anyone; practically no help. - -The executive offices were larger and better decorated than the other -offices. There were several uniform rooms where the vice-presidents -(they used to be partners but Mr Golden had changed that) sat at big -desks and received clients and dictated letters and did other things. -Then there was the anteroom. This was a small room with red leather -couches, a receptionist, some modern lamps and two portraits on the -walls. These paintings were of Mr Heywood and Mr Golden. Beyond the -anteroom was the boardroom. - -The receptionist smiled at Mr Murphy. He smiled back at her and sat -down in one of the red leather couches. Two minor vice-presidents were -also seated and waiting. They greeted him soberly. - -“Nice morning,” said the younger of the vice-presidents; he had been a -lieutenant commander in the navy. - -“Certainly is,” said Mr Murphy. - -“I understood we’re in for a cold winter,” commented the older of the -two vice-presidents; he had been a commander in the navy. - -“Nothing like a real old-fashioned Christmas,” said Mr Murphy in a -smooth low voice. He was conscious of a difference in their voices. His -own voice sounded rough to him while their voices were always smooth -and almost British. He had noticed these differences before but there -was nothing much he could do about them. In the front office he always -felt less important because of this difference, and because of this and -other things, too, he was made to feel an outsider. - -The vice-presidents then talked in their cultured near-British voices -about a certain college football game. Mr Murphy lay back in his red -couch and wondered if perhaps he should drink more milk. That was good -for ulcers; but nothing was good for cancer. He shuddered. - -A few more vice-presidents and section heads came into the anteroom. -They talked and laughed together and Oliver L. Murphy talked and -laughed with them. - -There was a buzz and everyone stopped talking. The receptionist looked -up from her desk. “They’re ready,” she said. - -The men walked into the boardroom of Heywood and Golden. - -A long room, with indirect lighting, thick carpets, and a long table -with armchairs around it: this was the boardroom. On the walls were -charts of stocks and trends. - -Mr Heywood was sitting at one end of the table and Mr Golden was -sitting at the other end of the table. Murphy sat down on the left of -Mr Heywood. This was his usual seat. - -“Hello, Oliver,” said Mr Heywood cheerily. - -“Hello, Mr Heywood.” Murphy was suddenly glad, glad that Mr Heywood -had called him by his first name; he did this only when he was -well-pleased, or wanted something. - -Oliver L. Murphy leaned back in his leather armchair. Mr Heywood sat -rather limply in his own chair at the head of the table. He waited for -the others to be seated. - -Lawrence Heywood was a gentleman. He had a large estate in Maryland and -he collected prints; he had had three wives and a number of children -and, generally, he had managed to do everything in a large but tasteful -manner. - -He was a tall man in his late forties. Completely bald, his neat round -head shone pinkly under the indirect lights. His face was smooth and -neat and looked as if he had never worried in his life. His voice was -not near-British like his vice-presidents: it was British. He had gone -to school in Massachusetts which explained a lot of it, thought Murphy. - -Mr Heywood did everything properly. He had inherited a lot of money. It -seemed as if every year a new relative would die and leave more money -to him. His three wives had all been beautiful and that was another -thing to be said for him--he knew how to choose women. Mr Murphy -wondered what it would be like to marry a beautiful woman. - -“How’s that new man in your office?” asked Mr Heywood suddenly. - -“You mean Holton? He’s doing very well.” - -“I’m glad to hear it. We have a mutual friend,” and Mr Heywood laughed -gently at the thought. - -“Is that right? He’s got a good background, I guess,” said Murphy. - -“I expect so. I used to know his mother. She was a very attractive -woman twenty years ago. She married ...” Mr Heywood decided not to -reminisce in front of Murphy. - -“He’s worked in my section, in the office, just fine.” - -“That’s good. I don’t know him myself but I have some plans for him. -We’re going to the same party tonight.” Mr Heywood laughed gently -again. “Perhaps we’ll get to know each other. It’s so hard ever getting -to know employees in the office,” sighed Mr Heywood. “I rather wish -there weren’t so many of them sometimes.” - -“I know just how it is.” - -“We going to call this meeting together?” It was Mr Golden’s high voice -from the other end of the table. - -“Certainly, Ben,” said Mr Heywood. “We’ll start right now.” He picked -up a black ebony gavel and tapped lightly, apologetically with it. The -men stopped talking. “Now, let’s see,” began Mr Heywood. - -“The Steel account, that’s the big thing we’re going to talk about,” -said Mr Golden. - -“That’s right.” Mr Heywood sounded bored. “That’s right. Well, -gentlemen, it seems that we have a problem.” - -Mr Murphy relaxed in his chair. Mr Heywood’s voice, gentle and -cultured, came to him soothingly. The Steel account was of no interest -to Mr Murphy; in fact, these conferences were generally of no interest -to him. He was just there to talk about Statistics. - -He played with papers in front of him. The voice of Mr Heywood flowed -about him. He was lost in a slow current of polite vowels. The pain in -his stomach was, for the time, gone. - -Mr Heywood spoke of the market, of stocks and shares, of the state of -the Union. He spoke convincingly because his manner was convincing -and, also, because his ideas and facts had been given him by many -clever men. - -Mr Golden sat at his end of the table and listened. He sat there very -straight, his little mouth set in a soft line of pseudo-firmness. His -small hands drummed on the table and his eyes glanced about the room. -His eyes were always in motion. The fear of a thousand years was in Mr -Golden’s eyes. - -From time to time he interrupted. Mr Heywood would pause and listen; -then, when the other had finished, he would continue in his gentle -voice to tell the others what clever men had told him about Steel, and -the men, whose livings depended upon him, listened respectfully to -their ideas. - -Mr Murphy observed these things as he sat in his chair. He felt -less important in these conferences but he did feel secure. Here in -the boardroom he felt himself to be a part of something large and -opulent--of American Business. This thought was comforting as well -as sobering. There was no security in the world to equal that of -belonging. It made no difference to what one belonged just as long as -one was a part of something big and secure. And what, Oliver Murphy -asked himself, could be bigger or more secure than Business? He saw -these things clearly because he had a philosopher’s mind and the Celt’s -ability to envisage life in a clear perspective. He could, he knew, see -the trees as well as the forest. That was what made him different from -the others. They felt, perhaps, that they belonged, but he _knew_. - -Then the ulcer began to bother him. - -He no longer was conscious of Mr Heywood’s voice. The only thing of -importance now was the dull pain in his stomach. He moved uneasily in -his chair. He pushed a hand into his stomach. This helped a little. -The pain shifted slightly. He followed it with his hand, his fingers -pressing gently into the pain. - -“We’ll want complete figures on the rise and fall of Arizona Zinc -during the past five years.” - -This was said by Mr Heywood. It registered in Mr Murphy’s mind but he -didn’t respond for a moment. - -“You’ll have those figures for us next meeting, won’t you?” Heywood -asked, irritation in his voice. - -“Certainly, Mr Heywood,” said Murphy. He sat up straight and Mr Heywood -nodded to him and then continued to talk. - -Oliver Murphy listened carefully to everything said. He was beginning -to sweat from the pain and the fear (more fear than pain, he told -himself) but still he strained to hear every word and, slowly, as he -listened, magic took place and the pain went away. - -At last, when certain decisions had been made, Mr Heywood adjourned the -meeting. - -Murphy stood up. He felt better now. He wondered if perhaps he might -not be mistaken about the cancer. - -“Oh, Murphy.” - -“Yes, Mr Heywood?” - -“That fellow in your office, that Holton, you think he’s quite -efficient?” - -“I do.” - -“I wonder,” said Mr Heywood hesitantly, “I wonder how he might work out -as one of our customers’ men. Dealing with the public, all that sort of -thing.” - -“He’d probably do that very well.” - -“You could afford to lose him?” - -“Oh, yes, I think so.” - -“I wish,” said Mr Heywood petulantly, “that I knew him better. It’s -terrible having so little contact with the office people.” - -“I could send him in to see you.” - -“Good Lord, no! I wouldn’t know what to say. I’ll wait and see him -tonight at Mrs Stevanson’s.” - -“When do you think you’ll change him over?” - -“Oh, I don’t know. If I think he has the suitable, ah, temperament, we -might change him this week.” - -“I know he’ll be really tickled to hear this.” - -“I expect so.” - -“How is Mrs Heywood?” asked Murphy politely. - -“She’s fine, thank you,” said Mr Heywood blankly. Trouble, decided -Murphy. The third Mrs Heywood seemed to be following the previous Mrs -Heywoods. - -“Well ...” said Murphy and he mumbled words to himself as he walked -toward the door. Mr Heywood stared vacantly at him as he left. - -Mr Murphy felt well when he was in motion. Walking with great dignity -from office to office, conscious of the eyes of others upon him, was -good for him. Aware of being a symbol of success he forgot his pains -and some of his worries. - -As he went into the Statistical office he could feel the atmosphere -change. The clerks and typists became busy. - -Mr Murphy went to his desk. “Any calls?” he asked. - -Caroline shook her head. When she shook, her breasts quivered slightly. -Mr Murphy noticed this and his stomach constricted with pain. Emotion -was bad for him, according to the doctors. He looked away and tried to -think of something else. - -“No, there weren’t any calls. Some memorandums came in from the other -sections but that was all.” - -“Any letters?” He thought of his family. - -“Yes.” Caroline sounded surprised. “Right there on your desk. Right -where I always put them.” - -“Oh, yes.” Mr Murphy sat down at his desk and looked at the pile of -neat businesslike envelopes. He had no desire to open them. - -Caroline typed rhythmically at her desk. - -“Say, Caroline....” - -She stopped and looked at him. - -“Tell Holton to step over here, will you?” - -“Sure, Mr Murphy.” She got up and went through the gate and out into -the office. He watched her legs as she walked determinedly to the other -end of the room. He was almost pleased to feel the pain come flooding -into his stomach. That would teach his stomach, he thought viciously. - -The gate creaked and Robert Holton stood before him. - -“You want to see me, sir?” - -“Yes, yes, Holton. Sit down here. Over here on my left.” - -Robert Holton sat down and looked expectant. Mr Murphy wondered for -a moment why he had asked to see Holton. Then he remembered what Mr -Heywood had said. - -“How’s everything coming, Holton?” - -“Just fine, Mr Murphy.” - -“Well, that’s good. Things _have_ been going pretty well here. But -I suppose you find things pretty dull after the army?” - -“No, no. I like this sort of work. I had enough moving around.” - -“I should think so. Well, that’s what most of us want, I guess,” said -Mr Murphy. “We want to settle down. A lot of people say they don’t like -routine but I think everybody does. It’s an important thing.” - -“Yes, sir. I think it is.” - -“There is,” said Mr Murphy, shutting his eyes for a moment to give the -illusion of pondering, “there is security in working for a big house -like Heywood and Golden.” He opened his eyes and looked directly at -Holton. “Don’t you feel that’s true?” - -“Yes, I hope so.” - -“Yes, it’s true.” Mr Murphy sighed and thought about going out to the -country for a rest. A place that would have neither telephones nor -mosquitoes. Most places had one or the other. - -He looked at Robert Holton and wondered what he was thinking. He seemed -a likeable young man. He was quiet and reserved and didn’t seem too -aggressive. In fact that was probably a fault that Mr Murphy had not -thought of. Holton was not a go-getter. He might lack initiative. That -was why he was quiet and reserved. Or, as Mr Murphy finally thought, -that might be a reason for his reserve. - -“Tell me, Holton,” said Murphy, “have you had any ideas about, ah, -your place here? I mean, what you would like to do. Naturally you -wouldn’t be interested in staying here, in this department. With your -education....” He permitted his voice to fade. - -“No, I haven’t had any ideas; in fact, I haven’t thought too much about -it. You see this is all pretty different from what it was like where I -was in the army. I don’t suppose I’m quite used to the idea ... well, -you know....” - -“I think I do. You would like to work in another department perhaps?” - -Robert Holton looked at him. Mr Murphy could not tell what he was -thinking for his face was relaxed and calm. “Well,” said Holton, “I -don’t know. I don’t want to be out of my depth. I’d like to make more -money. I like the idea of buying and selling stocks. I like that idea -very much. In fact, that’s one of the reasons I came here.” - -“Of course, there’s a lot of work to knowing about stocks and bonds. -You realize all the work that’s involved.” - -“Yes.” - -“Perhaps a place will be found for you in that department. It’s hard to -say, though. With your, ah, background it shouldn’t be too hard. That -is, if you have the _stuff_.” - -“I hope so.” - -“Good.” Mr Murphy watched Caroline typing. “I understand,” said Mr -Murphy finally in a changed voice, “that you’re going out tonight.” - -Robert Holton looked surprised. “What do you mean?” - -“Mr Heywood said you and he were going to the same party.” - -Holton smiled. “That’s right, I’d forgotten. Mrs Stevanson’s giving a -cocktail party. I guess that’s what he means.” - -“It won’t hurt to be nice to him there,” said Mr Murphy with a laugh. - -“No, I don’t suppose so.” - -Mr Murphy looked at Holton and wondered what would become of him. If he -had more initiative he might be a wealthy man because of his background -(the important thing was background), but he would probably not go -very far. He might not even go as far as Mr Murphy had and Mr Murphy -had been a success without background. Robert Holton didn’t look as -though he cared to be a success. - -“Well, don’t let your night life interfere with business,” said Mr -Murphy lightly. - -“No,” said Holton rising, “I won’t.” - -With a nod Mr Murphy dismissed him. - -Mr Murphy watched Caroline absently as she typed. Her hair was rather -long. It must be a nuisance to help her into a coat, he thought -suddenly. That was something he hated to do. Whenever he helped a woman -into a coat there was, first, a certain struggle to get her arms into -the sleeves. Some women were better than others at this. And then, -second, there was the problem of hair. If the woman had long hair it -was inevitably caught inside the coat. This meant that her first motion -was usually to free her hair and that involved a wild freeing and -flinging of the hair which for anyone still posted behind her meant -running a risk of becoming entangled. Mr Murphy wondered about these -problems as he looked at Caroline’s long dark hair. - -He had started to work on his letters (the ones in the business -envelopes) when Richard Kuppelton appeared. - -“Yes?” - -“I’ve got the first part of that report here, the one on aircraft,” -said Kuppelton. - -“Yes?” Mr Murphy made himself sound cold and official. - -“Well, I wondered if you cared to look at them ... what I’ve done so -far, I mean.” - -Mr Murphy looked at him for a moment without speaking. When Mr Murphy -had first come to work for Heywood and Golden his then immediate boss -had impressed him greatly by just looking at him for several seconds -at a time without speaking. Mr Murphy had adopted the mannerism and -over the years had improved it until now he could be very frightening. -He was that way now. - -“You want me to do it for you?” he asked finally. - -“No ... no, sir, I didn’t mean that. I just thought you would like to -see what I got done.” Kuppelton was uncomfortable and Mr Murphy decided -that he had done enough. - -“Why, I’d be glad to look at it,” he said. - -Kuppelton brightened. “Thank you. I only wanted you to see the form I -was using here. That was all. I’m making my conclusions in a slightly -different way from usual and I thought....” - -“Yes, I’ll take a look at it.” - -Kuppelton put a pile of papers down on Mr Murphy’s desk. - -Mr Murphy nodded at him and Kuppelton left quickly. Mr Murphy felt much -better after exercising his power. Poor Kuppelton was a good man in an -office but he would never go very far because he didn’t have assurance. -He would be promoted after the first of the year if Holton were moved -out. That would make Kuppelton happy, which was a good thing. It -wasn’t bad, thought Mr Murphy, to have contented people about you in a -discontented world. He relaxed in his chair and then the pains started -again. - -This time the ache was about an inch below his belt and slightly toward -the left (his appendix was on the right and, besides, his appendix was -in good shape). The pain began to move toward the center. Quickly he -pressed his fingers into the pain. - -His heart beat rapidly and sweat formed on his face. If the pain -didn’t go away by the count of ten he would get up and take the special -medicine his doctor had given him. - -Frightened, Mr Murphy counted and the pain, not subject to this magic, -did not go away. - - - - - _Chapter Six_ - - -“It’s twelve o’clock,” Caroline said to Mr Murphy. “I think I’ll go out -to lunch, if that’s O.K.” - -“Yes, yes, Caroline.” - -She thought he looked rather pale. She was about to ask him how he felt -but she stopped herself, remembering how he disliked talking about his -health. She had noticed that during the last year he had been taking a -lot of medicine. Perhaps he was going to die. Caroline began to compose -a little drama to herself. Mr Murphy had just collapsed across his desk -and she had been the only one to keep a clear head.... - -“You coming, Caroline?” It was Robert Holton. - -“Be right there.” She arranged the papers on her desk, shut the drawers -and joined Robert Holton outside the gate of the railing. - -“Where’ll we eat today?” asked Holton. - -“At _the_ restaurant, of course. Where did you think we would?” - -“Oh, I don’t know.” He was smiling now and she wondered if he could -have been trying to be funny; she could never be sure. - -“Sometimes you don’t make sense,” said Caroline. - -They were almost through the door when one of the secretaries called to -Holton. “Phone, Bob.” - -She waited for him at the door. He went over to his desk and answered -the phone. He seemed excited, she noticed, and he talked very quickly. -She wished she could hear what he was saying. Finally, he finished and -joined her. - -“Who was that?” - -“An old friend of mine.” - -“Man or woman?” - -“A guy I used to know. He just got in town. He comes from out West and -I haven’t seen him for a couple of years.” - -“You knew him in the army?” - -“Yes.” - -They walked through the offices to the elevator and Holton pressed the -button. - -“What’s he doing in town?” - -“He’s just visiting. I’m going to see him this afternoon. He’s coming -over here after lunch.” - -“That’ll be nice. What does he look like?” She asked this gaily, hoping -to have some effect on him. She didn’t, though. - -“I don’t know. He looks all right, I guess.” - -“You certainly are good at description. Be sure to let me meet him.” - -“I will.” - -The elevator stopped for them and they pushed into the lunch-going -crowd. With a rush they descended to the street floor. - -Outside the sun shone brightly above the street. The sky was a vivid -blue and the air smelt clean in spite of the exhaust fumes and the -people of the city. The day was warm. - -They walked along the crowded street. Men of affairs with brief cases -walked in and out of swinging glass doors. Younger men of affairs, -wearing bowler hats and dark coats with darker velvet lapels, marched -solemnly in the parade of business. The white-faced clerks squinted at -the bright sun. Women secretaries walked together, admiring themselves -in the windows. As they walked they talked to each other and to -themselves. - -“What a nice day,” said Caroline, breathing deeply and coughing as the -exhaust fumes tickled her throat. - -“Must be nice in the country,” commented Robert Holton. - -“Not you too?” Caroline laughed. “First Murphy and now you want to go -out in the country.” - -“I don’t want to go. I just said it must be pleasant there.” They -crossed a street and he looked carefully to left and right and when -they finally crossed the street the crowd had gone around them and the -light was beginning to change again. - -“Why do you take so long?” said Caroline disagreeably. - -“Just careful, that’s all.” - -They walked in silence then. She was very conscious of his being beside -her, of her arm being in his. This troubled Caroline, this awareness. -She looked at Holton’s face as they walked down the crowded street. -There was nothing in his face that she would like to have seen. This -made her feel better because he was not the right person. - -Over the high gray buildings was a narrow section of bright blue sky. -It was almost too bright and contrasted strangely with the dingy -buildings and the dark streets. Caroline watched the blue sky suspended -upon the buildings. No clouds were in the sky but from time to time -a bird would circle in it. And, as she watched the sky, a large air -liner, like a rigid bird, moved straightly eastward. - -Caroline breathed deeply again, careful this time not to get the -exhaust fumes too far down in her lungs. She coughed anyway. - - * * * * * - -Marjorie Ventusa looked through the plate-glass window at the street. -She had been watching off and on for half an hour, waiting for Robert -Holton to come. - -Some days he would come in at twelve and other days at twelve-thirty, -and then there had been certain days when he’d not come in at all and -those were bad days for Marjorie Ventusa. - -It was a few minutes after twelve when she saw him walking down the -street, pushing through the crowd, a man different from all the others -walking in the street. She frowned when she saw the pretty secretary -with him. Marjorie hated this girl but she was helpless and could only -hate all the others who seemed close to Robert Holton. - -She pretended to be busy cleaning a table when they came in. - -“Hello, Marjorie,” said Holton and he and Caroline came over to her -table. - -“Oh, hello, it’s you again.” She made herself sound matter-of-fact and -bored, but her throat was suddenly full and she had to clear it before -she could speak again. “What you going to eat today?” - -“I don’t know,” said Holton and he and Caroline sat down at the table, -across from each other. “What do you want, Caroline?” - -“I’d like to see a menu, I think,” said Caroline in a voice that -Marjorie Ventusa would like to have choked out of her. - -“Here,” said Marjorie and she handed them two white menus. - -They studied the menus. - -Many people were coming in and going out of the restaurant. All the -tables were full now and there were people standing and waiting for -tables. Some of her customers were beginning to look at her, waiting -for her to take their order. She hoped Mrs Merrin would not notice how -long she was taking with Robert Holton. - -“I think,” said Caroline, frowning a thin hair-wide frown, “I think I -will have some tomato juice, and a lamb chop....” - -“No more lamb chops,” said Marjorie, trying to keep the triumph from -her voice. - -The hair-wide frown became a scowl. “Then I’ll have the veal.” - -“Any vegetables?” - -“Yes, the spinach.” - -“You can have one other.” - -“That’s all.” - -And Marjorie thought, “the” spinach indeed. Why was it that when these -people wanted to sound elegant they would talk about everything as -“the”? - -“What do you want, Mr Holton?” She wished that she had the nerve to -call him Bob, the right to call him that. - -“Oh, I think I’ll take the same.” - -“Coffee, tea, or milk?” She said the words as though they were one word. - -They both asked for coffee and Marjorie went quickly out of the dining -room and into the kitchen. - -There was much more steam in the kitchen now than there had been at -breakfast; as the day passed the kitchen got hotter, and steamier, and -the cooks got more irritable and Mrs Merrin more nervous and Marjorie -Ventusa would become tired and sad. - -She called the new orders to the cook. Then she picked up two small -glasses of tomato juice and put them on her tray. She fingered one of -them a moment, thinking that soon he would be drinking from it. She -enjoyed thinking of this, though it only made her desire stronger and -her sadness greater. - -She didn’t want to go back yet. She hoped Mrs Merrin would not come -into the kitchen for a while. - -But one of the swinging doors opened and Mrs Merrin walked into the -kitchen. Quickly Marjorie picked up her tray and went back to the -dining room. - -Caroline and Robert Holton were talking seriously and Marjorie, because -of the noise of voices in the dining room, couldn’t hear what they were -saying. - -They stopped talking as she came up to them. - -“Here you are,” said Marjorie Ventusa brightly, putting the glasses of -tomato juice on the table. - -Robert Holton smiled at her, showing his white even teeth. - -“Have you got a date for tonight?” asked Robert Holton. - -“You know I always do.” - -“A sailor maybe?” - -“I’m not saying.” - -“Get one who’ll take you to Italy.” - -This was cruel but Marjorie smiled and forgave him. She had not been -joking when they spoke of Italy. She did not think it fair of him to -say this in front of the pretty girl, but Marjorie forgave him because -he was young and because she felt about him in a certain way. - -“Maybe we’ll go to Capri together,” she said. “Is it nice there?” - -Holton nodded. “Beautiful.” - -Caroline said, “I’m sure you don’t want to take up any more of her -time, Bob. She’s got a lot of things to do.” Caroline gave Marjorie a -brilliant smile. A man from the table next to theirs said loudly, “When -are you bringing me my soup?” - -“In just a minute, sir.” Marjorie looked at Robert Holton once again, -tried to catch his eye but he was talking now to Caroline and Marjorie -Ventusa had been put quietly from his mind. She went back to the -kitchen. - - * * * * * - -Outside the restaurant Richard Kuppelton and the receptionist Ruth -were wondering whether anybody they knew would be in the restaurant; -otherwise they would have to wait for a table. - -Kuppelton looked through the window. He blinked nearsightedly. Then he -saw Robert Holton and Caroline. - -“Caroline’s in there,” he said. - -“With Bob?” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, let’s go on in.” Ruth liked Robert Holton. - -“Hello, hello,” said Kuppelton heartily when they were inside. - -Caroline and Robert Holton appeared glad to see them. - -“My gracious, it certainly is crowded,” said Ruth, pointing to the -people standing. - -“Lucky you people were here,” said Kuppelton. - -“I don’t,” said Ruth, “see how the town stays so crowded all the time. -I could understand it during the war but now ... well, it’s just -impossible to go anywhere or do anything.” - -“I know,” said Holton. “Took me months to get a room.” - -“Is it nice?” asked Caroline. - -He shook his head. “It’s very depressing.” - -“I guess I’m lucky to be living with my family,” said Kuppelton. “It’s -real nice out where we are and there aren’t so many people. I’d hate to -have to live in the city.” - -They talked of the places where they lived and then they started to -talk of the places where they would like to live. - -Kuppelton watched Holton as he talked and he tried to learn, by -concentrating intensely, what he was thinking; to learn if Mr Murphy -had said he would promote him. Holton’s smooth forehead, however, was a -wall and Kuppelton could not pierce it, could not discover the dreams -behind it. - -Marjorie came over to their table and put two plates of veal in front -of Caroline and Robert. The veal was a uniform tan color, floating in a -sea of red sauce. Two saucers of dark-green spinach floating in water -were put beside the plates of veal. - -“Looks good, doesn’t it?” commented Marjorie. - -“Sure, sure,” said Holton, looking at his plate with distaste. - -Kuppelton ordered veal and Marjorie left. - -Kuppelton looked at Ruth. She was dark, with a big nose and with -self-pitying eyes. Her complexion was oily and she wore too much -make-up. Ruth liked all men; she was sitting very close to Robert -Holton now. - -“Any interesting people come into the office?” asked Holton, turning -to Ruth: as receptionist she was always able to tell them about -celebrities. - -Ruth nodded. “Laura Whitner was in to see Mr Heywood.” - -Caroline was interested. “She’s the movie star, isn’t she?” - -Ruth nodded again, a birdlike motion. “Why, she used to be one of the -biggest stars. I used to go see all her pictures. My gracious, they -were wonderful.” - -Marjorie Ventusa returned with veal for Kuppelton and the ham and eggs -for Ruth. - -“Oh, thank you,” said Ruth. “I love ham,” she added. - -Richard Kuppelton looked at Ruth with disapproval. She was an -aggressive woman and he was tired of aggressive women. His mother was -that way. Caroline was more what he wanted. She had spirit but was not -aggressive. There was a difference between spirit and aggressiveness. -He could not quite define it but still there was a difference. Caroline -could act irritated with him and he would not mind. And she always -smiled, even when she was angry; he could not feel that a woman who -always smiled was aggressive. She had a mind of her own but then he -could handle that. Eating veal, Richard Kuppelton felt he could handle -anything. - -Robert Holton finished eating. He sat back in his chair and yawned. - -“Bored?” asked Caroline. - -He shook his head. “No, not very. Just sleepy.” - -“Well, I like that!” exclaimed Ruth. “You’d think we weren’t good -enough for him.” She said this in a way to let him know she was being -humorous. - -Kuppelton decided, however, to develop what she’d said. “Sure, he’s a -good friend of Mr Heywood.” - -Ruth was impressed. “I certainly wish I had your contacts then. I sure -wouldn’t be working in this lousy job.” - -Robert Holton wanted to know what was wrong with her job. - -“Oh, you know how it is. Doing the same thing day after day. It makes -me sick. I’d like to do something exciting.” - -“Like what?” asked Richard Kuppelton. These were his secret wishes, -too, but he would never have put them into words. He was delighted to -hear someone else say them. - -Ruth was not sure just what she wanted. She decided she would like to -travel. Richard Kuppelton admitted, then, that he would like to travel. -Caroline thought a moment and agreed with them that to travel would be -the best thing anyone could do, the thing she wanted to do. - -Robert Holton, who had traveled, said that he didn’t care to leave New -York again: not for many years at least. - -“You’re not adventurous,” said Caroline sadly. - -Ruth protected him. “After all, he’s had some adventures. He was in the -war.” - -Richard Kuppelton was glad that Holton did not talk about the war. -It made too great a difference between them and the women might have -called attention to this difference. - -He disliked Robert Holton because he was afraid of him. It was more -than the threat to his job, much more than that. Caroline, whom -Kuppelton wanted, seemed interested in him. He flattered himself that -she was no more interested in Holton than she was in himself; still he -was a threat. - -Ruth was moving closer to Robert Holton now. Her thick curved lips, -heavily painted a dark red, looked unpleasantly moist. Kuppelton had -a desire to dry her mouth. He was amused, though, at the way she was -playing up to Holton. She liked him now because of his influence, not -because he was good-looking. Although Kuppelton, for one, couldn’t see -his handsomeness. Holton was well-built but not much better than he -was; of course, Kuppelton had a slight stomach and Holton didn’t, but a -few days of exercise and he could be as slim. He made a mental note to -do some exercise. - - * * * * * - -Marjorie Ventusa arranged her hair in front of the steamy mirror. It -didn’t look too bad when she wore it over her ears. She pinned it back -carefully. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to get a snood after all. - -She put some other people’s orders on her tray and left the kitchen. -The crowd waiting to be seated was beginning to thin and soon the lunch -rush would be over. - -She waited on the customers whose orders she had and then she moved -over to the table where Robert Holton was sitting. He was very -handsome, she thought. She looked at the others with him and she envied -them all. They didn’t understand what he was, how important he was. - -The girl with the blue eyes and slim legs she could not like. This -was her rival--one of her rivals, anyway. She was glad that he never -seemed particularly interested in this girl and, for that matter, the -girl didn’t seem interested in him. Still she was near, worked with him -probably: she was a danger. - -Then Marjorie Ventusa did not like the dark-haired girl with the big -nose who sat so close to him, but at least she was not a danger. She -almost pitied this girl who had moved her chair so close to his that -their legs were touching. - -The other man was dull-looking and obviously interested in the girl -with the blue eyes. Marjorie Ventusa wished him luck. Then, having -thought these things about her customers, she walked over to their -table. - -“Ready for dessert?” asked Marjorie Ventusa cheerfully, trying not to -look at Robert Holton. - -They were ready. - -Everyone decided to have vanilla ice cream. Slowly she cleared the -table. This was a hard thing to do, because she had to act as if she -were in a hurry. - -They talked at the table as though she weren’t there. She was, -naturally, used to that: she had been a waitress a long time, but today -she was almost angry at being treated like a piece of furniture. She -could do nothing about it, though. She picked up her tray and went into -the kitchen. - -Marjorie ordered the ice cream. As she waited she wondered if there -was any way she could ever see Robert Holton in his other life: the -mysterious important life he had in the brokerage firm. She tried to -think of some way she could get to know him in this other life. She -could think of nothing. - -The ice cream was ready and she took it back to the dining room. - -She gave them their dessert and only Holton said thank you. She tried -to expand this one phrase into a conversation but it was too difficult. -So she walked over to the next table which was now empty. Slowly she -placed dishes on her tray. She was near enough to them to hear what -they were saying. - -Robert Holton was talking about his job: “I don’t mind being in an -office all day. I can’t see why people mind that so much.” - -The dark girl with the big nose disagreed: “It’s much more natural to -be able to wander around like you want to do. It’s natural to travel, I -think.” - -He laughed. Marjorie liked his laugh. He said, “You should get married, -that’s what you should do.” - -The dark girl became coquettish. “But I haven’t had any offers yet. Of -course, I’m open to any.” - -The bitch, thought Marjorie Ventusa, disliking her now. - -“You shouldn’t have any trouble,” said Holton gallantly and Marjorie -liked him for saying this. - -“You’re just saying that.” - -Then the girl with the blue eyes and the dull man began to talk -together and their voices blended into the ocean-like sound of many -voices in the restaurant. - -They finished the ice cream. - -Marjorie walked over to the table. “Will there be anything else?” she -asked officially. - -There was nothing else. - -“We’ll have our check, please, Marjorie,” said Robert Holton and she -liked the way he said her name. - -“Certainly.” She went to the cashier and had the four checks totalled. -Then she came back. - -They paid her. - -“Back to work,” said the blue-eyed girl with a sigh. - - - - - _Chapter Seven_ - - -“Here we are,” said Caroline. - -Ruth went to her desk in the reception room. “I’ll see you all later,” -she said and she sat down and took out a large gold compact. Caroline -watched her a moment as she powdered her nose, watched her with a -certain pity because she was ugly. - -“Come on,” said Kuppelton and he and Robert Holton walked on either -side of her through the office. She was conscious of the envious stares -of the other girls and she smiled at them as nicely as she could, -knowing that they hated her for her smile. - -Mr Murphy was not in the Statistical office. Everyone else was back, -though. As she entered the room Caroline was conscious of a difference -in the atmosphere. The women were quieter than usual and the men were -watching. She looked and saw, sitting at Holton’s desk, an army officer. - -“Jim!” said Holton when he saw him; the other looked up. - -“Hi,” he said and he got to his feet. They shook hands with Anglo-Saxon -restraint, muttering monosyllables of greeting, each asking about the -other’s health. - -Kuppelton went to his own desk without speaking to the army officer. -Caroline stood expectantly beside Robert Holton, waiting to be -introduced. - -“This,” said Holton finally, “is Caroline. Caroline, meet Jim Trebling.” - -“How do you do,” said Trebling. - -“How do you do,” said Caroline and they shook hands. His hand, she -noticed, was rough and hard. - -“You live in New York?” asked Caroline. This was always a good -beginning because it could lead to all sorts of confessions. - -He shook his head. “No, I’m from California. I’m from Los Angeles.” - -She was impressed. “That’s where Hollywood is, isn’t it? You from -Hollywood?” - -No, he was not from Hollywood. He lived near by. - -“I’d certainly like to visit out there.” - -“It’s not as interesting as New York.” - -She gave a little laugh to show her scorn for New York, her laugh -leveling the buildings and cracking Grant’s Tomb. “It’s awful here,” -she said. “We have an awful climate.” - -He raised the buildings again. “Oh, I think it’s pretty exciting. -You’ve got so many things. This is really the first time I’ve seen New -York. Bob and I went overseas from here and we came back here but I -never really saw the town.” - -“Are you regular army?” she asked. Men in uniform were becoming rare. - -“No, I’m getting out soon. I signed up for a little while longer.” - -“Oh.” - -He and Robert Holton began to talk then about the army and she felt -shut out. She stood there wondering whether she should go or not. She -rather liked this young man. He was a lieutenant, at least he had one -bar on his shoulder and she thought that lieutenants wore a single bar: -the war had been such a long time ago and she had forgotten so many -things. - -He had dark eyes and bleached-looking hair which Caroline had always -found attractive in men. His skin was rather pale for a Californian; -all Californians had brown skin in her imagination. He was not -particularly handsome, though he looked rather distinguished, with -sharp features and circles under his eyes. - -“Are you in the East long?” she asked. - -He looked at her as if he had forgotten she was there; still, he was -very polite. “No, I’m only here for a week.” - -“Looking around?” - -“Yes, looking around.” - -“Caroline,” said Robert Holton, as though explaining an important -thing, “Caroline is the belle of the office.” - -“I can see that,” said Trebling without too much effort, saying it -almost naturally, a hard thing to do. - -“Oh, thank you,” said Caroline. Now she didn’t know what to say. She -looked at his ribbons. She counted them mechanically, the way she did -before the war ended: five ribbons. “You must’ve been around quite a -bit,” she said finally, speaking before the silence her last words had -made became another conversation. - -Trebling nodded seriously. “Yes, I saw quite a bit. No more than Bob -did, though.” - -“That must’ve been nice,” said Caroline, “your being able to serve -together everywhere.” - -“Yes, it was.” - -She knew that they were waiting for her to go but she wasn’t ready yet. -“Do you like being in the army in peacetime?” - -“No, not particularly.” - -“Well, you’ll be out soon, I suppose.” - -“Quite soon.” - -She had to go now. She couldn’t understand what kept her standing there -foolishly trying to make a conversation by herself. It was not as if -Lieutenant Trebling were handsome or unusual. - -Caroline made her great effort. “Well,” she said, “I guess I’ll see -you later, Mr Trebling.” Was that the right name? She wasn’t sure. She -hoped she hadn’t said it wrong. - -“Nice to have met you, Caroline.” She smiled at him, her face at a -three-quarter angle: her most flattering angle. Then, with great -nonchalance, she walked slowly back to her desk. - - * * * * * - -Trebling was surprised at the way Holton looked out of uniform. - -To have lived several years with a person who looked always one way -and then to see him later another way is startling. Jim Trebling had -always thought of Holton as a soldier: he could not get used to him as -a civilian in an office. - -“Sit down, Jim.” Holton pointed to a chair beside his desk. They both -sat down. Trebling felt a little awkward. The office was too formal for -him and he was not at ease. - -Jim looked at Holton, trying to get accustomed to him. “You’ve -certainly changed. I don’t know if I’d have recognized you.” - -Robert Holton laughed a little self-consciously. “These civilian -clothes _are_ different. They make you feel different.” - -“You’re really settling down, I guess.” - -“I’m afraid so.” - -“I wish I could. Maybe I will when I get out ... I don’t know.” - -“What do you think you’re going to do?” - -Jim shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking of starting some kind -of a business. You know, what we used to talk about before you got out.” - -Holton nodded. “That’s a good idea, I guess. I thought of it, too, but -of course the odds are against you.” - -Trebling was surprised to hear Holton say this. “I know it,” he said. - -Holton saw then that he hadn’t said the right thing. He tried to -explain. “I don’t mean you shouldn’t start a business. I just mean -something might go wrong.” He was saying worse things now; he stopped. - -Jim changed the subject. “How do you like being out?” - -“Oh, it’s pretty wonderful. Just to be able to stay in one place....” - -“I guess it’s nice for a while.” - -Holton sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever travel again.” - -Jim was surprised. “I thought you were going to go around the world. -Don’t you remember when we used to talk about seeing more of Italy?” - -“Well, maybe sometime. I hadn’t stopped moving for very long then.” - -“No, that’s right, you hadn’t.” As they talked Jim Trebling became more -uneasy. This was a person he had not met before and he was surprised -and sorry. Robert Holton had been different as a soldier. - -As they talked, the words forming conventional patterns and hiding -their real thoughts, Jim thought of the war. - -“You remember the time we were in Florence?” - -Holton said that he remembered it very well. - -They spoke then of Florence and as they talked Jim Trebling began to -remember many things. - - * * * * * - -The city had been liberated for several months. The war was almost over -and Holton and Trebling were able to take a week’s leave: they went to -Florence. - -Parts of the city had been badly damaged. The old buildings on the Arno -had been leveled in many places but the Ponte Vecchio was still there. -These things had not been very important, however, because they had not -gone to see antiques. They had gone to rest, to meet women, and to try -to find enough liquor to get drunk on. - -They stayed with a family outside of the town; they stayed in a place -called Fiesole. - -Trebling remembered the house clearly: long and rambling, dirty-white -stucco with small iron balconies beneath the larger windows. A rock -garden, dusty gray-green olive trees and an unearthly view of the -valley in which was Florence. - -The house belonged to a family named Bruno, friends of Robert Holton’s -mother. They had invited the two of them to stay as long as they liked: -in those days it was a good policy to have American soldiers in one’s -home. - -Robert Holton had liked a girl named Carla. Trebling had liked her too, -but not as much as Holton did. He remembered one night when the three -had sat on the terrace, watching the city. - -It was summer and the night was warm and vibrant. The city lights -glittered in the valley-cup; the lights were golden and flickering and -the river shone darkly. - -They sat on a stone ledge, their feet dangling above the rock garden. -Carla was between them; her hair was dark and her face pale. They sat -like this, watching the lights of the city and listening to the sound -of insects whirring in the night. - -And Jim had said, embarrassed by the long silence, “It’s so peaceful -here.” - -The other two acted as if they had not heard him. Holton, sitting close -beside Carla, touched her. - -And then she had said, “It seems like such a long time ago.” They -thought of this as they sat in the blue darkness. - -Holton finally spoke, saying, “Isn’t it a shame that this has to change -again?” - -They had been surprised to hear him say this; Trebling was more -surprised than Carla because, though he had known Holton longer, she -knew him better. Trebling was surprised to hear Holton speak seriously: -he was never serious at other times. He always tried to be funny. - -“Why _should_ this change again?” asked Carla, looking at him, -trying to tell his expression in the dark. - -Holton only sighed and said, “Because everything changes when you go -away.” - -“You can come back,” said Carla and Jim remembered now the exact way -she had said that and he was sorry for her. - -Holton didn’t answer for a moment and then he had said, “Yes, I suppose -you can.” They knew then that he would not come back and Trebling -could sense her sadness as they watched the lights flickering below -them. - - * * * * * - -“Do you remember Carla?” asked Jim suddenly, his mind adjusting to the -present. - -“The girl in Florence? Sure, I remember her. Was that her name ... -Carla?” - -“That’s right.” - -“She was very nice looking, wasn’t she?” - -“Yes.” - -“Sure, I remember her.” - -“I thought you liked her quite a bit,” said Trebling, not looking at -Holton. - -“I suppose I did. We ran into a lot of people, though. There were so -many people.” - -Trebling agreed that there had been a number of people in Europe, -people they had known. - -“That was a good town, Florence,” said Holton suddenly. - -“It was.” - -“We were there a week, weren’t we?” - -“About that.” - -Holton nodded, and Trebling watched him to see how he felt; Holton’s -face told him nothing, though. He was only remembering. - -“It’s certainly a nice feeling to be out,” said Holton finally. - -“I guess it must be.” - -“Not having to worry about being moved from place to place.” - - * * * * * - -They were standing in the Roman Forum. All around them were pieces -of shattered marble, shattered in earlier wars. Trebling and Holton -had looked at three slender columns of marble, all that was left of a -temple. - -Trebling had remarked, “I’ll bet those pillars are pretty old.” - -Holton agreed, “Maybe a thousand years old.” - -Together they had looked at the three columns of the ruined temple. - -Trebling asked, “Do you think you would’ve ever gotten here except in -the army?” - -“No. I don’t guess so.” - -“I probably wouldn’t have either.” - -“It’s sort of interesting.” - -And Trebling had said, “I like the traveling part of all this.” - -Robert Holton agreed to this and then they began to complain about -other things. - - * * * * * - -Trebling sat back in his chair and looked around the office. He didn’t -like offices and he didn’t like this one at all. The clear constant -light standardized the people in the room. - -“How do you like it here?” he asked. - -Holton shrugged. “O.K., I suppose. It’s something to do.” - -“You think you’ll stay in this sort of work?” - -“Probably, I don’t know yet.” - -“I had thought you might go into this new thing with me. - -“Well....” - -Neither spoke for a moment. - -Finally Trebling asked, “Can I smoke in here?” - -“I’m sorry, Jim, but....” - -“Sure, I know: rules.” - -“I’m sorry. These people are awful stiff about a lot of things.” - -Jim Trebling wished again that he hadn’t come. He had an impulse to run -away. “What’re you doing tonight?” he asked finally. - -“I’m going to a big cocktail party.” - -“Being social, eh?” - -“Well, you know you have to make contacts ...” he continued, explaining -himself carefully. - -Then Holton asked Jim about himself, and he listened as Jim talked. The -cataloguing of army camps, the different duties in each, the girl he -had decided to marry and then didn’t, his current leave of absence, the -trip across the country, the pleasure of seeing Robert Holton again. - -Trebling told this story automatically, as one always tells a much-told -personal story and as he told this he wondered what had happened to -Holton. - -In the war he had been considered wild. He had spent most of the time -laughing at things. He had been easily bored and now he was changed. - -“It must be nice to be out,” Trebling repeated, not knowing what else -to say. - -And Robert Holton explained to him in detail why it was so nice to be -free. - - * * * * * - -Paris had been the most interesting place of all. They had spent two -days there. Trebling had been very conscientious and had insisted that -they see palaces and landmarks and they had actually tried to see a -few but then Holton decided that there was not enough time for that. -They met two girls. Trebling could not remember their names; he could -remember nothing about them except that they were rather pretty and -claimed to be sisters. - -The girls had suggested they go on a picnic. Holton had liked this -idea and he managed to get some food from the mess officer of a -near-by company. They took bicycles and drove out of Paris. They rode -through Sèvres and some small towns on the outskirts. They approached -Versailles but the girls didn’t care to go into the town and so they -turned left from the main road. At a small town called Jouy-en-Josas -they stopped, and on the dark green lawn of a bombed-out château they -had their picnic. - -The sky was overcast that day. And the woods that surrounded the -château were blue and smoky and looked mysterious, like the pictures of -enchanted forests in children’s books. - -When they had finished lunch Holton wanted to go walk in the woods. -Only one of the girls spoke English. - -“Let’s take a walk in the woods,” Holton suggested. - -The two girls giggled and talked together very quickly in French. The -one who spoke English finally said, “Sure, we go walk in the woods with -you.” They walked in the woods. - -Hand in hand the two couples walked between the misty trees. There -was no underbrush here and the trees came up out of the stony, -grass-covered ground, free and straight. - -The two girls understood what was expected of them. His most vivid -memory was not of the one he had but of Holton’s: a stocky, pink-faced -girl. He remembered clearly the way her head lolled against the tree, -her eyes closed and her thick lips slightly ajar. He remembered that -her hair was almost the same color as the bark of the tree. - -“Say, Bob, do you remember those two girls from Paris?” - -“When was that?” - -“You know, the time we went on the picnic.” - -“I’m afraid I’ve forgotten.” That was that. - -A large important-looking man came into the office. When he saw -Trebling with Holton he stopped in the middle of the room, changed his -course with the unself-conscious dignity of a schooner under full sail, -and walked straight over to them. - -Holton got to his feet quickly and Trebling did the same, sensing that -this was a person of importance. - -“Jim Trebling, this is Mr Murphy, the Chief of our section.” - -“Glad to meet you, Lieutenant.” They shook hands vigorously, Mr Murphy -smiling with goodwill. - -“Well, Lieutenant, I suppose you’ll be getting out soon?” - -Mechanically Trebling explained what he was planning to do. - -“Think you’ll go into Business?” asked Mr Murphy. - -“Maybe, I don’t know.” - -“Lot of openings now for a young man who wants to get ahead.” - -“There probably are.” - -They talked for a while of Business as though it were a state of being. - -Trebling looked at Holton as Mr Murphy talked, looked at him, trying -to find something familiar in his face. For a moment as he looked he -thought he could see a tightness about the mouth, an effort at control -but Jim Trebling could not tell what Holton was controlling and the -mouth soon relaxed and he could tell nothing then. - -Coming back on the boat together they had talked of what they were -going to do when they got out. - -“I think I’d like to make money,” said Holton, looking at the white -wake of the ship. - -“That’s not a bad idea. How?” - -“Damned if I know.” - -“We could always start that pottery business I was telling you about, -back in California.” - -“That’s a thought.” - -“Of course there’re a lot of other things we could do.” - -“I suppose it’s all a matter of picking the right one.” - -They looked at the gray water and thought of new things, of works not -yet begun. Pensively Holton leaned out over the railing and spat. -Trebling, interested, did the same. For several moments they were in -serious contest to determine who could spit the farthest. Holton won, -although Trebling claimed he had been helped by a gust of wind. - -Then they walked about the decks of the transport. Soldiers were -everywhere. They sat in groups on the covered hatches, they leaned over -the railing to look at the sea and, also, to be sick. - -“I guess all these people are going to be trying the same thing,” said -Holton suddenly. - -“Try what? Starting a business?” - -Sure. - -“I don’t think so.” - -“A lot of them will.” - -“So what?” - -“I guess it could work.” They stopped amidships and looked out to -sea again. “I’d certainly like to have a lot of money,” said Holton -sincerely. - -“So would I,” said Trebling with casual sincerity. - -They had decided then to start in together when they got out of the -army. Holton had been discharged first, however, and he had immediately -joined Heywood and Golden. In his occasional letters Holton never -mentioned the business again. Trebling remembered that now and was -sorry so much had changed. - - * * * * * - -Mr Murphy was talking about Business. - -Holton was listening to him with what appeared to be interest. Trebling -shook himself and tried to act as if he had been following the lesson -Mr Murphy had been giving him. - -“Very nice to have met you, Lieutenant,” said Mr Murphy at last. - -“Nice to meet you.” They shook hands. Mr Murphy turned to Holton. “I’d -like to see you for a moment if your friend doesn’t mind.” - -“Certainly.” Holton gestured to Trebling to stay where he was. Then Mr -Murphy and Holton went over to the other end of the office where the -windows were. - -Jim Trebling sat in his uncomfortable chair beneath the fluorescent -lights. He wanted to leave this office, leave it now and not come back. -He couldn’t understand Holton any longer. He no longer knew him. - -Trebling was aware of someone standing beside him. He looked up: it was -the blue-eyed girl. He started to get to his feet. - -“Don’t move,” she said. “I’m just passing by. Mr Murphy and Bob seem to -be having some sort of conference. I thought I’d wait outside the gate -till they were through.” - -“Sit down,” said Trebling. - -“Thank you.” She sat down in the chair beside him. He wondered what to -say to her, what to talk about. - -“Have you been here long?” he asked. - -She told him that she had been there for several years. - -“It must be interesting working in a place like this.” - -She laughed. “It’s pretty awful, I think. As jobs go, of course, it’s -not bad.” - -“But you’d rather not work at all.” - -“That’s right.” - -“Well, you’ll probably be married soon.” This was a leading question. -There was a simple ritual to conversation with pretty girls who might -be had. - -She recognized this and answered according to the ritual, “Oh, maybe -someday, when I meet the right person.” - -This could mean a lot. He was interested now. “That’s important, -meeting the right person.” - -They were both silent, thinking how important it was to meet the right -person. - -Trebling began to think of this girl (was her name Caroline?) quite -seriously. It was such an important thing to discover: if she could be -had or not. For one night she might be very pleasant. He liked the way -she looked. But then he thought of certain other one-night stands and -of the phone calls and letters and emotion that often came of them. He -would be very careful about this. He resumed. - -“I suppose you can have a pretty good time in New York if you know the -right places to go.” - -“Yes, there are some nice places. You have to be very careful, though.” - -“A lot of them are clip joints, I guess.” - -She laughed. “I’ll say they are.” - -“Depends, I guess, on who you go out with.” - -“Well, you should know your way around.” - -They were drawing nearer and nearer to the act. Everything was going -well. She was returning all his signals. He began to breathe a little -hard as they approached the gateway. - -“I know so few people in New York,” he said. “Bob’s really the only -person I know well. I don’t know any girls.” - -“Well, there’re a lot of them around.” - -“I know.” He paused and then he began to speak carefully but casually. -“I was going out tonight but I don’t think I will now.” - -“Why?” - -“It’s not much fun alone.” This was said almost pathetically. - -“What about Bob?” - -“He’s going to that cocktail party.” - -“Oh, yes, I forgot.” A pause now, a silence with great meaning in it. - -“Maybe,” and he was saying it at last, “maybe _you_ might go out -with me tonight.” - -“Me!” Surprise, pleasure, a certain asperity, all these emotions -splendidly portrayed in that one word. “Well....” - -“Of course if you’re busy....” - -“Oh, no....” She spoke almost too quickly. “I’m not really certain,” -she added, regaining her dignity. “Perhaps you might call me back -around five. I’ll know then.” At that moment both of them knew. - -“That would be fine. I hope you don’t think it’s ...” - -“Certainly not.” Then she said that any friend of Bob’s was a friend of -hers. - -Trebling felt pleased with himself for having managed so well. It -might take a week but it would still be pleasant. He looked forward to -the final moment of yielding. He sighed and started to think of other -things. - -Caroline, seeing that Holton was on his way back, got up from her -chair. “Nice to have seen you, Lieutenant. I’ll be looking forward to -your call.” - -He also stood up. “I hope you can make it.” She said that she did, too, -and they both knew what was going to happen. Robert Holton came back -and Caroline left. - -“That’s a pretty girl,” said Trebling. - -“Caroline? Yes, she’s pretty nice.” - -They stood looking at each other awkwardly. “Shall we get together -tomorrow evening?” suggested Holton. - -“Sure, that’d be fine.” - -“Well, listen, Jim, it’s been wonderful seeing you....” - -“And I’ve enjoyed it....” Their voices intermingled into a single -sound. Neither of them listened to the words of the other. - -“See you tomorrow then, Bob?” - -“See you then.” They said good-bye and Jim Trebling left the office. -As he stood in the reception room waiting for the elevator he felt sad -at the way Holton had changed. It was such a shame because they had -once been very close. Then Jim Trebling thought of Caroline and he felt -happier. The Carolines were the important things. - -The elevator door opened and he stepped inside. - - - - - _Chapter Eight_ - - -At five-thirty the world ceased to be official and became private. - -Happily Robert Holton put away his books and figures and prepared to -leave. Monday was over and he wouldn’t let himself think of the other -days of his week. - -Caroline was putting on her hat and Mr Murphy sat at his desk behind -her, dreaming, his eyes fixed shrewdly upon nothing. - -Robert Holton walked over to Caroline. - -“Ready to go?” - -She nodded. “All ready.” Together they walked through the emptying -offices, rode down the crowded elevator, and stepped out into the more -crowded street. - -The sky was gray now and the sun had vanished behind buildings. The air -was cool and the smell of exhaust was strong as cars moved slowly in -the streets, trying to escape to less crowded places. They walked with -the stream of people toward the subway opening. They talked. - -“Guess what?” said Caroline. - -“What?” - -“I’m going out tonight.” - -“Well?” - -“I’m going out with Lieutenant Trebling.” - -He was surprised. “That was fast work. Did he do that while he was in -the office?” - -“We talked about it. He called me back later and I told him I’d go out -with him.” - -“Well, well.” Holton was admiring but Caroline was not sure whether he -was admiring her or Trebling. - -“I think he’s nice,” she said, not committing herself. - -“Yes, he’s a good guy.” - -They crossed a street nervously and in silence. On the other side they -went on talking. - -“Tell me something about him?” she asked. - -“There’s not much to tell. He’s from the West Coast. He went to UCLA, -I think, and his old man’s in the insurance business. He went into the -army about the same time I did and he’s still in.” - -“That’s not what I want to know.” - -“Well, what do you want to know?” - -She had trouble saying this. “Oh, you know ... the sort of person he -is. All that sort of thing.” - -Robert Holton, who hadn’t thought much about it, had a hard time -answering. “I guess he’s what you’d call a dreamer. He’s not very -practical. He always wants to start things ... businesses, you know. In -the war he was pretty good and other people liked him. He wasn’t very -wild then.” - -“Is he now?” - -“Just his ideas. In those days I used to be the wild one.” - -She laughed and thought he was joking with her and this made him angry -and sad but there was nothing he could do about it because he had -assumed a certain identity with her and it had to be maintained. - -“I’ll bet you were wild!” - -“We all change,” he said. - -She wasn’t interested in how he’d changed, though: she was interested -in Jim Trebling. “I don’t suppose he’s engaged or anything like that?” -She was casual. - -Holton laughed. “No, you can get him if you want to.” - -“I didn’t mean that at all. What do you mean by saying that?” - -“Not a thing.” - -She went on talking for several moments, trying to be indignant. Then -they crossed another street and she stopped talking. - -They walked with the current of people, walked uncomfortably but -deliberately over the sidewalk ventilators of the subway beneath. As -they walked they could feel the thunder of a subway train under their -feet, vibrating upward, like a great emotion, into their stomachs. - -Then they came to the opening of the subway. With a deep breath they -descended into the pit. Like lemmings dashing seaward the people pushed -down the steps and into already crowded trains. - -Caroline and Holton were separated. A sudden push of the crowd threw -her into the train just before the door closed. He caught a last -glimpse of her serene beauty being crushed between a large Negress and -a tall white man. The train gave a rumble and pulled away. - -Holton stood on the concrete platform with a hundred others who had -missed this train and were waiting for the next. - -He walked up and down between the concrete pillars, looking at the -broken machines which were supposed to sell gum and peanuts and, from -habit, he put his finger into one of the slots to see if anything was -there: nothing was there however. - -He admired the advertisements. His favorite one, the girl advertising -beer, was not in this station but there were others. Two very excellent -ones of movie actresses, young women hauntingly attractive with red -lips. He admired these even though the most beautiful actress of all -had had her front teeth blacked out and a crude phallic image drawn -over her passionate face. There were people in the world who would do -those things, of course, and he was not annoyed. - -The other advertisements were less interesting and he didn’t look at -them very long. - -Another train roared through the tunnel, stopping with great noise; the -doors opened and people flowed out; then another rush to get on the -train. Robert Holton allowed himself to be carried into the hot stale -car. - - * * * * * - -He liked to walk in the Park. In the evenings the Park was the most -peaceful place in the city. A few people would be sitting on the -benches and a few couples would be walking between trees but there were -never many people here in the early evening and the ones that were -there were always quiet. - -As Robert Holton walked the miracle of the street lamps took place, -white light filling the bulbs and changing the early evening, the -twilight period, to a premature night. - -He walked quickly now because it was almost six o’clock. Mrs Raymond -Stevanson’s cocktail parties often went on until nine or ten o’clock -and occasionally they lasted all night but he couldn’t know this for -certain and he didn’t want to be late. - -Robert Holton thought sadly about Jim Trebling as he walked, breathing -the cool air. A short time had made a lot of difference and he was -aware of this difference. - -Trebling was apt to be impractical. It was a likeable quality in the -army; he himself hadn’t made much sense in those days, but things had -changed now. This was the time to be practical and Jim Trebling was not. - -A couple were embracing beside a large rock. He watched them with -interest as he went by. - -He had tried to pretend to be the same but the effort, or the change, -had been too great. It made him unhappy to think that he and Trebling -had really been so different, had always been so different, even in -those days. He was shocked to think that Trebling remembered the army -as a pleasant period of his life. There had been times, of course.... - -Another couple came out of the woods, walked to the pathway and looked -uncertainly about them, as though unsure of themselves. When he glanced -at them they looked at him angrily, as if he had been spying. He walked -away. - -Robert Holton was not sure why he had changed toward Trebling. He -wanted to be the same. He wanted to take up the friendship where it had -been broken but he could not. He was not going to change again. - -A nurse with a baby carriage was hurrying streetward. It was late, -probably much too late for her to be out with the baby. As she passed -him he caught a glimpse of the child and saw that it was staring -vacantly ahead, concentrating upon growth. - -He followed the nurse and the carriage toward the street. Robert Holton -smiled to himself when he thought of Caroline and Jim Trebling going -out together. It was always interesting when people out of different -periods of his life came to know each other. He had never associated -Trebling with Caroline before. - -He took a last deep breath of air before he left the Park. He wished -vaguely that he might have more time to walk in the Park and straighten -out certain things. - -The uptown streets were not crowded. A few people were coming home from -work; most of the people were already home by now. Children played -together in the streets, shouting at one another in sharp hoarse -voices. A smell of cooking was in the streets. - - * * * * * - -There was no mail for him. - -This was not a good day. On the good days there was mail; days could -be bad when there wasn’t any. Not that there was anyone Robert Holton -wanted to hear from in particular but he was less alone when he had -letters to read. - -“Been a nice day,” said the person behind the desk. - -“It certainly has,” said Robert Holton. - -“Won’t be long until it’s winter,” said the person behind the desk. - -“It won’t be long,” said Holton. He turned then and walked through the -dingy lobby to the elevator. - -He and the elevator boy discussed the kind of day it had been. They -also decided that it would be winter soon. - -His room looked no more cheerful than usual. Robert Holton sat down on -the bed, leaving the room dark. It gave him a feeling of power to think -that, when he chose, he could turn on a light and dispel the darkness. - -He started to think of Trebling but stopped himself. There was nothing -to be done now. The old friendship was gone. - -Trebling had mentioned a girl named Carla. He remembered her well. She -had been pretty and intense and wealthy. He had not thought about her -for a long time. She had been a strange girl, gentle and understanding. -He had been greatly attracted to her and she to him. - -They had walked around Florence and Fiesole. She had taken him to old -palaces and churches although he hadn’t wanted to go. When he had -objected she told him that she was trying to show him something. He -never knew what it was she wanted to show him. When he left Florence he -told her that he would write: he didn’t, though, and he had not thought -of her again until today. - -The thing he had liked most about Carla, the thing he could remember -now, was her way of understanding him. She once told him that it wasn’t -necessary to finish sentences when they talked; that she knew what he -would say and that he should know what she would say. - -Sitting in the dark of his hotel room, Robert Holton thought of all -the women he had known and liked; some he had slept with and some he -hadn’t. Most of them he had forgotten. Now he only thought of them when -someone else recalled them to him. - -And he did remember about Paris. He remembered the picnic outside -Versailles, although he could not remember the faces of the two girls. - -In Europe there had been so many women. He often was surprised now -when he thought of how many he had known. There were periods when he -had been never satisfied. Both Trebling and he had gone about it like -hunters. Trebling was probably still hunting, thought Holton suddenly, -and he wondered if he was, too. No, that was behind him. He had to live -and act in a different way now. He had to be a different person. - -Robert Holton turned on the light beside his bed. He blinked in the -yellow light and suddenly he was dissatisfied with the room. He wished -for the first time that he were somewhere else; it didn’t matter where, -just somewhere else. He was a person of great logic, though, and he -asked himself what he would rather be doing and he couldn’t think of -anything else to do. He didn’t want to travel. He had no desire to -escape. There was no place to escape to anyway and Robert Holton who -had a kind of wisdom knew that. - -Then he took his clothes off and got under the shower. This was usually -the happiest part of his day. The warm water gave him a feeling of -security, relaxing him; the world fell into a genial perspective. He -finished bathing reluctantly and dressed quickly. - -Finally he stood in front of the mirror again and combed his hair. He -was glad to see that he wasn’t losing his hair. Sometimes he thought he -was; at other times he knew he wasn’t. - -He wasn’t displeased with himself. He wasn’t pleased either but he knew -that he was acceptable. There was no use in worrying, anyway. He wished -sometimes that his nose could have been more aquiline. He would like to -look more impressive. Perhaps his face would get that way as he grew -older. He turned away from the mirror. - -He looked at the picture on the wall and wondered for the hundredth -time why the painter had made everything look so blue. The painter had -made one of the apples almost sky-blue and Robert Holton had never seen -an apple that color before and he found it hard to believe that there -was much advantage in so misrepresenting things. Perhaps in certain -parts of France the apples were blue. - -He was dressed and ready now. He looked at his watch and saw that it -was a quarter to seven: he would have to hurry. Robert Holton looked -around the room to see if there was anything he wanted to take with -him. There wasn’t. He put on his trench coat, turned out the light, and -left the room. - -The elevator boy wanted to know if he was going to a party. - -“Sure, I’m going to a big party.” - -“Lots of girls, I bet.” The pale thin elevator boy was interested. - -“A whole lot of them.” - -“Boy, I wish I was going out to something like that. This night work is -getting me down. I ain’t getting much relaxation.” He winked to show -what he meant by relaxation and Holton smiled sympathetically. - -Robert Holton stopped by the desk. - -“I’ll be back pretty early,” he said to the clerk. He always told them -when to expect him, told them from force of habit because no one ever -wanted to know. - -“Yes, sir,” said the clerk. “Nice night tonight,” he added. - -“Nice fall night,” agreed Robert Holton. - -They discussed the evening politely. Then Robert Holton left the hotel. - -It was darker now and cooler. The night was refreshing and he felt -suddenly strong and contented. The depression of the office left him -and he was becoming alive. He prepared himself for the party and for -the evening ahead. He walked briskly down the street and, to emphasize -his mood of sudden power, he hailed a taxi and rode in it happily, -without regret for the money he was spending. - - - - - 2 - NIGHT - - - - - _Chapter Nine_ - - -The party seemed to be going well. Although Mrs. Raymond Stevanson -hated cocktail parties, finding her own almost as bad as other -people’s, she still felt she had to give them and she worked very hard -to make them outstanding. - -Several hundred well-dressed people wandered about her large apartment, -looking at the furniture, each other, and the five different paintings -of Mrs Stevanson. There were no traces of Mr Stevanson in the -apartment. He had died early in her career, leaving her his money and -four race horses. She had sold the horses and she had saved quite a bit -of the money. Now, at fifty-five, she was a famous hostess and somewhat -overweight. - -“Good evening, Helena.” Mrs Stevanson turned around and saw the thin -malicious face of Beatrice Jordan. They were contemporaries. - -“Beatrice! How marvelous!” They touched cheeks with slight frowns, then -came apart again with affectionate smiles. - -Beatrice stood back a moment and looked at Mrs Stevanson. Beatrice was -extremely nearsighted but much too vain to wear glasses. To see clearly -she was forced to tuck her chin down and look upward, a habit which had -given her an undeserved reputation as a coquette. She did this now. - -“Helena, you’ve lost weight! How?” - -Mrs Stevanson was pleased. “Does it really show?” She patted her -cement-hard corseted buttock. - -“Not so much around there,” said Beatrice, thinking for a moment. “More -around here.” She touched her own meager breasts. - -“You think so?” Mrs Stevanson was irritated and angry with herself -for allowing Beatrice Jordan to say such a thing. Mrs Stevanson was -proud of her breasts. Several of the famous painters had called her -voluptuous. - -“It’s been lovely seeing you, Helena darling. I’ve got to join my -escort now. I came with Clyde.” - -Beatrice said this triumphantly but gained no victory. - -“You came with Clyde. How wonderful! I’m dining with him tomorrow.” - -“Indeed?” - -“Is he here now?” - -“He’s in the other room.” - -“Do tell him to see me before he leaves. There are _so_ many -people here.” - -“I will, darling. Lovely to see you.” Beatrice smiled, showing her -artful white false teeth and Mrs Stevanson smiled back showing her own -artful white false teeth. The two women parted. - -Mrs Stevanson was annoyed but she had found that the older she got the -less interested she was in what people said. It was well known anyway -that Beatrice Jordan was a cat. - -Mrs Stevanson walked now from group to group. The groups unfolded for -her like flowers before the sun. She would disappear for a moment into -the heart of one and then it would unfold again, release her and -become tight and compact once more. - -Certain groups contained people more important than other groups. In -these she lingered longest, smiling the most attractively, saying her -superlatives. - -In the dining room a buffet had been set on a long table. Three footmen -(hired for the evening only) guarded it from the hungry-looking guests, -betrayed it to the superior ones who were not hungry. - -Twenty or thirty people were gathered here and they looked rather -self-conscious as she approached. Somehow everyone felt rather guilty -to be caught eating heavily (they _were_ eating heavily, she -noticed) at a cocktail party. - -She moved heartily about the dining room, demanding that they eat more, -suggesting they try something they had not already tried. And then, to -show she was mortal, she ate a piece of white bread with Virginia ham -on it. - -The dining room under control, Mrs Stevanson marched back through the -drawing room, accepted greetings and homage with a tiny smile that one -of her lovers (he was dead now) had said reminded him of La Gioconda. - -Mrs Stevanson, among other things, believed in art. Tonight she had -invited several writers, a few painters, one sculptor whose name she -couldn’t remember, and a half-dozen actors whose names everyone knew. - -She had also invited George _Robert_ Lewis. For some obscure -reason his middle name was always Gallicized, legitimatizing the Lewis. -He had been born and raised in Alabama. Unfortunately for his family -he had very early shown a passion for the artistic as well as a marked -tendency toward Socratic love. When he decided that the thing he most -wanted was to go to Paris and become an artist, his family did not -object; in fact, his father had suggested that if he wanted to live the -rest of his life in Paris it was all right with him. Lewis lived there -in the Nineteen-Thirties. He returned in the Forties. - -Mrs Stevanson thought him cute and she was in the habit of telling her -friends that, although his habits were shocking, he was still quite -charming and so _advanced_. And then he was marvelously decadent -and the decadent was becoming popular now that the artificial virility -of war was safely past. - -George _Robert_ Lewis was also an interesting person to know -because he was the editor of _Regarde_, a magazine which had been -called _avant garde_ before that phrase became old-fashioned. -Under his editorship the magazine had advanced all new things in the -hope that one of the new things thus championed would be a success. So -far none had but he still was championing and, though Mrs Stevanson -seldom understood a word he said, she felt he was awfully brave to say -the dreadful things he did about people and morals, especially people. - -Lewis was talking to a small brown man whom she didn’t remember -inviting. - -“Dear Helena,” said Lewis as she approached, “you look wonderfully -well-preserved.” - -“George, you’re a devil,” said Mrs Stevanson, secretly pleased. - -Lewis embraced her in much the same way Beatrice Jordan had. “What mad -things have you been doing, Helena? Something naughty, I’m sure.” His -innocent blue eyes sparkled as he spoke. He had the expressions of a -child. - -“Nothing that you couldn’t equal. It was delightful of you to come.” - -“I was so bored, darling, I felt that if I stayed home another moment I -should go completely out of my mind.” - -“Poor thing.” They talked this way with each other, talked with the -casual rudeness of people who have met each other at many parties. He -was an amazing person, thought Mrs Stevanson, looking at him carefully. -He was slim and not very tall, with a pretty feminine face and, except -for the small bitter lines about his mouth, he looked as if he were -still in his twenties. His actual age was unknown. Mrs Stevanson -thought he was forty. - -“And whom have we here?” asked Mrs Stevanson, turning to face the small -brown man beside him, a social smile on her face. - -“Why, don’t you know ... this is....” He said the name quickly. It was -something foreign and difficult. She would have to call Lewis up the -next day and ask him. She shook hands with the little man and saw that -he was impressed with her. She smiled as George _Robert_ Lewis -explained him. He was a Greek and a professor and he knew a lot about -poetry. - -“_But_ Helena, he has the most fabulous philosophy. I really think -it’s never been done before. What was it again, Timon?” Mrs Stevanson -knew his first name now. - -“I’m sure Mrs Stevanson wouldn’t be interested.” As a matter of fact -Mrs Stevanson wasn’t interested but she encouraged him. - -“I should love to know,” she said. How like an earthenware pot he -looks, she thought as he began to tell her his theory. - -“You see it is based on the legend of the Golden Fleece. I have -substituted the artistic ultimate in place of the fleece and, to carry -the myth to its final parallel, I envisage all artists as traveling -upon an Argosy....” She listened politely, carefully to the sound of -the words, ignoring their meanings. She glanced up and down the large -white-paneled room. No one was drunk. - -“Isn’t it stimulating?” asked Lewis when the Greek named Timon had -finished. - -“Wonderful,” murmured Mrs Stevanson. - -The Greek flushed happily. “I don’t think the Argosy’s ever been -interpreted quite that way before.” - -“I’m sure it hasn’t,” agreed Mrs Stevanson. She was becoming impatient -now. Her own Argosy would have to begin again. More guests were -arriving. - -“Have you seen the new ballet?” asked Lewis suddenly. - -“No, I haven’t seemed to have had the time.” - -“It’s dreadful. But the boy ...” Lewis made little motions with his -hand, with his mouth, with his body. His eyes glittered their blue -innocence, their cheerful pleasure. He described the boy to her and in -great detail he told her how he was going to arrange a meeting. - -“You’re too clever to stay alive, my pet,” said Mrs Stevanson. She -hoped that none of her other guests were overhearing this. Most of them -were quite worldly but a few weren’t and it would never do to have them -hear him. - -“I must ...” began Mrs Stevanson moving slowly away. - -“So nice to have met you,” said the small Greek named Timon. - -“The pleasure ...” murmured Mrs Stevanson. - -Lewis waved to her. “I shall see you later, Helena.” Mrs Stevanson -wondered irritably why fairies had to have such unpleasant voices. - -Several new arrivals were in the foyer. She recognized Mr Heywood -immediately. He was passively allowing one of the footmen to take his -overcoat away from him. - -“Heywood dear, it was so nice of you to come.” - -“It’s nice to be here, Helena.” He looked unhappily at the footman, -retreating with the overcoat. - -“And where is your lovely wife?” Mrs Stevanson knew perfectly well they -were no longer on speaking terms. - -“My wife?” Heywood became dreamy, vague and distant. “Oh, she’s not -well at all.” - -“Really? Do tell me what’s wrong. I’ve a very good doctor, you know.” - -“It’s nothing, really. She has trouble with her head. I think it’s her -head.” - -“Migraine,” said Mrs Stevanson firmly, leading Heywood now into the -drawing room. “I’ve been a martyr to it myself. You know,” and she -lowered her voice, “I think it’s due to change of life.” - -“Really, Helena!” Heywood was gently shocked. He made a restraining -motion with his white limp hairless hand. “I’m sure she’s much too -young for that.” - -“Well, you never can tell,” said Mrs Stevanson who knew Mrs Heywood’s -exact age. - -“What a lot of people,” sighed Heywood. “So many people.” - -“There _are_ a lot,” said Mrs Stevanson proudly. “As usual I don’t -know half of them.” - -Carefully she cut Mr Heywood away from her, allowed him to float -unprotected through the groups of people. He looked back at her sadly -but she had no pity for him and, finally, a group of Wall Street people -swallowed him up and she saw him no more. - -Several people were entering the drawing room. They walked slowly with -the carefully controlled uneasiness of people who didn’t know the -hostess well. - -She recognized one of the newcomers and she greeted him joyfully: -Ulysses returned to Ithaca, as the small Greek named Timon might have -said. - -The man she knew introduced her to the others. Most of them were -English and she had a great admiration for the English. It was not -particularly fashionable to like them now but she still was fascinated -by them because they could talk without moving their lips. It -_was_ rather wonderful. - -“And this,” said the man she knew, “is Mrs Bankton.” - -“How do you do,” said Mrs Bankton in a low voice. She was not English; -Mrs Stevanson could tell that right away. - -“We’ve met before, I think?” A hint of question was in Mrs Stevanson’s -voice. - -“I don’t think we have.” - -Mrs Bankton was definitely not English. Her accent was French or -Spanish or Italian. Mrs Stevanson could never tell one from the other. - -“Mrs Bankton’s husband is the artist,” said the man she knew slightly. - -“Of course,” said Mrs Stevanson wondering who Bankton was. “Certainly, -I know. But you’re not English, my dear?” - -“No, madame, I’m not English.” Mrs Bankton smiled at her and made no -further admissions. Mrs Stevanson looked at her with dislike. She -liked to find out about people quickly. Life was too short to have -them hold back important facts and, ultimately, confidences. People -always confided in Mrs Stevanson, knowing that she was not sufficiently -interested in them to repeat what she heard. - -“I do hope you’ll enjoy yourself,” said Mrs Stevanson more cordially -than she would have done had she liked the person. - -“Thank you,” murmured Mrs Bankton. They bowed slightly to each other -and parted. Mrs Stevanson watched Mrs Bankton as she walked across the -room with her party. She looked very exotic in a short black lace dress -and a red rose in her hair. What slim ankles, thought Mrs Stevanson -disagreeably, thinking of her own heavy legs, practical legs one artist -had told her, voluptuous legs an even better artist had said. - -Mrs Stevanson turned, setting a smile on her lips. She faced the -largest of all the groups: over twenty people talking all at once to -each other. Holding her breasts high she approached them and, as she -was recognized, their voices lowered and smiles appeared all about her -and she was accepted into the center of the group and there devoured. - - * * * * * - -Robert Holton was received by a butler. His coat was taken with -ceremony and he was moved easily out of the black marble foyer into the -drawing room. - -He had never visited Mrs Stevanson in her New York apartment. He was -greatly impressed and he tried to retain a mental image of what he -saw: he was constructing a dream world and such an apartment might be -material for it. - -The drawing room was large, formal and very light. Three chandeliers -hung from the high ceiling. The walls were paneled in white wood with -gold-leaf decorations, like the palace at Versailles. Paintings hung at -regular intervals about the room: portraits mostly, portraits of Mrs -Stevanson. There was one large painting of a countryside which Robert -Holton could tell immediately was done by Rembrandt or someone like him. - -The floor was thickly carpeted and tables and formal chairs furnished -the room. A few people sat; most of them, however, preferred to stand, -to move about gracefully, searching. - -He stood blinking in the light, drugged by the high noise of voices, -hypnotized by the odor of many flowers drenched over the women who -stood talking to men. - -He walked slowly, uncertainly toward the center of the room. He knew no -one in the room. He looked for familiar faces, though; there were none. -Then he saw Mrs Stevanson and he walked toward her. She looked at him -and he could tell she was puzzled. Then she recognized him; she came -toward him and they met beneath a portrait of her holding lilies. - -“You’re little Bob Holton, aren’t you?” A strange description, he -thought. - -“Yes, Mrs Stevanson, you remember we met last year and....” - -“Of course we did. How _is_ your father?” - -“Fine, just fine.” His father hated her. - -“I’m so glad to hear that. I think you look more like your mother, you -know. She was such a lovely woman.” - -He mumbled thank you. - -“Your mother was one of the most charming women I ever knew. She had -such a wonderful way of doing things, so original.” Like marrying my -father, thought Holton. “She was always full of surprises. I used to -enjoy her so much.” - -There was an awkward silence. Robert Holton never found it easy to talk -about his mother and Mrs Stevanson had decided, obviously, that it was -the only thing she could discuss with him. - -“It was very nice of you ...” began Holton. - -“Think nothing of it, my dear. I don’t know if there are many younger -people here. You might look round, though. I suppose you’ll know -everybody. There’s Laura Whitner over there.... You know her of -course.” He looked and saw a dark little woman wearing a skull cap. - -“I’ve seen her act,” he said accurately. - -“Oh, yes.” Mrs Stevanson looked around the room. He could see that she -was preparing to leave him alone. - -He was wrong. “You must,” she said, “meet some friends of mine. They’re -foreigners and they’ve only just arrived. They don’t know anyone....” -She was going to say “either” but did not. - -She led him over to a small group of men and women. Mrs Stevanson -didn’t know their names but she acted as if they were her dearest -friends. - -“This young man is Robert Holton. His mother was a great friend of mine -and you must be nice to him.” She was cute. “He’s just gotten out of -the navy.” She looked up suddenly with a magnificent gesture, looked -as if someone had hailed her from across the room. “Oh, I have to go! -Please excuse me.” She moved away in a swirl of silk, her bright blue -hair bouncing on the back of her thick white neck. - -“How do you do,” said Holton, shaking hands with a dark man. Then he -shook hands with a light man, with a short heavy one, with a thin -blonde girl and finally he shook hands with Mrs Bankton. - -“How do you do,” said Robert Holton. - -“How do _you_ do,” said Mrs Bankton. Her voice startled him. It -was deep and foreign and she had said the “you” as though she had -really meant him. - -“I’m very well,” he said and he looked at her. Her hair was dark. Her -eyes were greenish and bright and shining. He looked at her mouth, -red and curved, elfinly shaped. He stammered, “I know you. I know you -but....” - -“But who am I?” She laughed and gestured with her long white hands. - -“Yes, who are you?” - -“Carla.” - -“No!” - -“Yes.” - -“You’ve changed. I....” - -“And so have you. I think you look younger out of uniform.” - -“But....” - -“You’re surprised to see me? I’m just visiting this country. My -husband,” she paused, “my husband is in England and I think he’ll be -coming to join me soon.” - -“Then you’re married?” - -“But of course! And very well.” She smiled at him, smiled gently and -he felt embarrassed because she acknowledged an old relationship so -easily; that she was so unmoved, so unguilty. - -“I’m very happy to hear that.” He didn’t know what else to say. - -“Thank you. Let’s get out of this crowd.” She looked about her. She -pointed to a corner of the room, an alcove containing a window. “Let’s -go over there.” They walked through the crowd and sat down on the love -seat beneath the window. - -“You’re surprised, aren’t you?” She spoke softly. - -“A little, I guess. I don’t know. I have to get used to the idea. I -always associated you with ... with Florence and....” - -“You felt that was behind you?” - -He was surprised. She must have known him very well, he thought -suddenly; he had forgotten how well she had known him. “No, I didn’t -think that,” he lied. - -“I have very warm memories,” she said lightly. - -He blushed and hated himself but there was nothing he could do or say -that would make it better. “Mine were pleasant, too. I ... I liked -Florence quite a bit.” - -“Yes, I’m sure you did, and you liked Fiesole, and the nights and -summer days. I suppose you liked them all.” - -“I liked them all.” - -“And that was what you liked, all that you can remember?” - -“No, I _remember_ more. I ... I didn’t know if you’d want to talk -about that; being married and....” - -She was surprised. “But I knew you first, after all. That counts for -something and then I remembered, too. It hasn’t been so long.” - -“Several years.” - -“It doesn’t seem that long to me. You remember those nights at our -place in Fiesole? We used to go out and sit on the ledge and look at -the lights of the city.” They both looked out the window then, looked -at the glacier-bright squares of light. - -“It was very pretty.” - -“You Anglo-Saxon!” She laughed at him, not maliciously but gaily. “You -say it’s pretty. You say it’s nice. It was beautiful and you know it. -That was a beautiful time.” - -He felt her warmth suddenly, began to remember her warmth, began to -remember much that he had forgotten. “Yes,” said he, warmed by her, -“those nights _were_ beautiful.” - -“Good, I wanted to hear you say that. I wanted you to say,” her voice -became so low that he could barely hear her, “I wanted you to say much -more but I think you’ve forgotten.” She looked out at the towers of the -city, at the glittering webs of light. She was embarrassed now and he -was not. No, she was not embarrassed; he realized that with a sudden -vision; she was sad and he didn’t want her to be sad. - -“You know ... I can say more. I didn’t think you wanted to hear it. -That was so long ago. You’re married and....” - -She turned around and faced him, her face alive and gay; her moods -changed so quickly, he remembered: he had always been baffled by her -changes. “You got interested in someone else. I know what you soldiers -are like. Italians are just the same in Italy.” - -“No, there isn’t anyone else.” This was the wrong thing to say and he -tried to withdraw the words from the air but they were lost to him now. - -“No one else? No one...?” - -“Well....” - -“How strange.” She looked at a painting of Mrs Stevanson and at that -moment she looked as if this painting were the most important thing to -her. Finally she said, “I think I’d like to drink some whiskey. Shall -we go to the bar?” - -“Certainly, Carla.” He was glad that he had said her name naturally. - - * * * * * - -Carla felt uncertain. The cold glass that a footman had given her -was chilling her hand. She wondered if she should put it down on the -dining-room table. They were standing near it and Robert Holton was -looking hungrily at the food; she could see that in a moment he would -have enough courage to eat. - -“What a dreadful room,” said Carla. - -“What?” He looked at her as though she had not been there. “Oh, yes, -it’s sort of forbidding.” He glanced at the dark wood-paneled walls and -the ornate chandelier. - -“I don’t know why these people must have everything so heavy inside,” -said Carla. “The buildings in New York are so tall and light.” - -“Some places are more modern.” - -“I suppose they are.” The glass of whiskey in her hand was becoming -much too cold to hold. She put it down on the table. - -“You don’t like it?” - -“I think I’ve had enough for now. You remember how little I used to -drink.” - -“Yes, you never needed it.” He looked at her directly and smiled. She -was happy then because it was the first time he had looked at her eyes. -He was losing his fear of her, this strange and, to her, inexplicable -fear. - -“Let’s find some place to sit down,” she said. - -“I thought you wanted to walk around.” - -She laughed. “All right, we’ll do both.” They walked around. - -More people had arrived. Several hundred, thought Carla with distaste. -She liked smaller parties. She had only come tonight because friends of -her husband had insisted. They were keeping close watch over her for -they knew how jealous Bankton was. It was very amusing, she thought -as she and Holton walked from group to group. Her husband’s friends -watching her now would never suspect what had happened in Florence. - -They came to an especially large group, a dozen men surrounding Laura -Whitner. - -“Do you want to meet her?” asked Carla, looking at Holton, knowing that -he did. - -“You don’t know her?” - -“But of course. I know everyone.” - -They cut their way through the bewitched men, cut through to the -enchantress herself. - -Laura Whitner was dark and slight with full breasts. Her face was as -delicate as a carving in ivory; sallow, too, as old ivory. The lips -were brilliant red and she twisted her mouth in childlike expressions -and her sad dark eyes glittered from habit and not from fire. She -looked unwell, thought Carla. - -“Carla Bruno!” exclaimed Laura when she saw them. The two women -embraced with warmth and the enchantment was broken for the admirers -and they began to withdraw from the circle of her spell, smiling as -they departed, leaving her alone in her theater with only two admirers. - -“But my tiny Carla, what are you doing in New York? I haven’t seen you -for years, not since Paris.” - -“I’m here visiting.” - -“But I’m so happy to see you! You know, you’re the last person I’d -expect to run into here.” - -“I had to get away from Europe. I hadn’t been to America since I was a -child.” - -Laura Whitner looked at her hands. “You’re not married, are you?” Carla -wore no wedding ring. - -Carla smiled and nodded. - -Laura looked astonished, her scarlet mouth, like a wicked child’s, -twisted with all the emotions she felt and several that she did not. -“To whom? To the little one here?” She motioned to Robert Holton who -had been standing silently watching her. - -Carla laughed. “No, Laura, to Bankton in England.” - -“The painter?” - -“The painter. We’ve been married two years.” - -“Are you happy?” There was a dark note in her voice as she said this -and Carla could tell that it was something she wanted to know. - -“I am not unhappy,” said Carla, knowing that this was no answer but she -hoped that Holton would grasp her meaning. - -“I’m sorry,” said Laura Whitner almost undramatically. “I married -again, you know.” - -“I heard you did. Is he here tonight? I used to know him.” - -“He couldn’t come, he’s working on a show. Are you going to have -children?” - -“I don’t think so.” - -“I want one.” She sighed and touched the skullcap on her head with a -hand that was pale and like the claw of a bird, a hand that shook. “If -I’m not too old I’m going to make a child. I think that’s what I need.” - -“You must be very happy with him.” - -She nodded and said with great sincerity, “Yes, I’m very happy now. -After a long time I am.” And Carla looked into her sad dark eyes and -saw that they had not changed expression. - -“Who is this?” asked Laura Whitner, turning to Holton, making love to -him automatically with her face. - -“This,” said Carla, “is Robert Holton, an old friend of mine. We knew -each other in Florence during the war.” - -“Indeed!” She lifted her thin brows and made her mouth very round. -Holton blushed and Carla wanted to protect him. - -“I’m very pleased to meet you,” said Holton awkwardly. “I’ve liked you -in the movies.” Carla remembered then his honesty: the thing that had -attracted her to him. He had always been honest; she wondered if that -was so now. - -“Have you really, child? Thank you.” She made a gesture that was -intended for an entire audience but it was still very graceful. - -“You must,” said Carla, “call me up and we’ll get together. I’m staying -at the Mason.” - -“I shall, of course. Tell me....” At this moment Mrs Raymond Stevanson -appeared to capture Laura. - -“Laura, darling, I’ve got the most marvelous Estonian who wants to meet -you. I think he said he was an Estonian. I know you’ll love him. You’ll -excuse me, I know.” She said this last to Carla and Holton. - -“We’ll have lunch,” said Laura, calling back over her shoulder as she -was borne away by the conquering Mrs Stevanson. - -“What did you think of her, Bob?” asked Carla. - -“She’s not as pretty as I thought she’d be.” - -“They never are; you must learn that.” - -He looked at her and she tried to tell what he was thinking but for -once her intuition was not enough: she had first to examine the years -that had gone by. She had to find some trace of familiar emotion in -him. She had to rediscover the stranger. She had to make him remember -what she remembered. In Florence he had loved her, she was sure of -that. Now it was up to her to reconstruct a passion that had never been -wholly lost. She had cared more for him than he had known then; would -ever know, she hoped. There had been so many nights after he had left -when she had longed to be with him, nights when she could feel again -the warm summer about them as they lay together in the wide bed in her -room. She was determined now to find the lover in the stranger that -stood beside her, who stood looking seriously but remotely into her -face. - -“Shall we sit down now, Bob?” - - * * * * * - -People were beginning to leave. It was eight-thirty and Mrs Stevanson -was glad to see them go. The first two hours were interesting and then -she found herself bored. - -On the other hand George _Robert_ Lewis was not bored. He was -slightly drunk and enjoying himself very much. He was usually overcome -by a monstrous _ennui_ during the day which, as evening came, grew -less and less. In a few more hours he would have discovered a reason -for living and this would keep him happy until he woke up the next -morning with a hang-over. - -He was glad when he heard that the famous Bankton’s wife was at the -party. She had been pointed out to him but he hadn’t met her yet. -He stopped a waiter and took a cocktail from him. And, equipped for -conversation with a woman, he marched across the drawing room to where -Carla stood talking with a young man, a rather nice young man, thought -Lewis. - -“Mrs Bankton?” - -She turned and looked at him and he rather liked her brown-green eyes. - -“Yes?” She looked at him as though she wanted him to go away. Lewis was -sensitive to such things but not particularly nonplussed; in fact he -was accustomed to being asked to go away. - -“I’m George _Robert_ Lewis ... you know _Regarde_, the -_avant garde_ magazine, only it’s so trite now to call anything -_avant garde_. You must have seen it. We did the most splendid -article on Bankton last year. I’ve just loved his work because I can -feel what he’s trying to do: post-surrealism and all that sort of -thing. I’m all for it; in fact, we’re all for people like Bankton who -do things. I just felt I couldn’t help but come over and say hello.” - -She smiled at him very nicely. “I’ve heard of you, Mr Lewis. My husband -thinks very highly of what your magazine is doing.” - -“He does? Oh, but isn’t that simply marvelous! I always felt I would be -most sympathetic with the great Bankton. Tell me, darling, when do you -expect him in this country?” - -She took the “darling” quite well, he thought. - -“I’m not sure. I think in a month or so. He’s so busy in London.” “By -the way”, she said, “I want you to meet an old friend of mine, Robert -Holton.” - -“Very pleased to meet you, Mr Lewis,” said the young man as they shook -hands. - -“_Enchanté_,” said Lewis, bowing from the waist and allowing his -hand to stay too long in Holton’s. Such a nice young man, thought -Lewis, and wondered if.... - -“What,” said Carla, “is _Regarde_ espousing now?” She spoke -quickly and Lewis could see that she understood him and this pleased -him although, in a sense, they were rivals. - -“As always: the advanced, the revolutionary....” - -“And the honest?” - -“But of course, darling, we are never consciously dishonest, though it -_is_ hard sometimes not being.” - -“Perhaps in life but not in art.” She spoke severely. She was a Latin; -he could tell now from her accent. - -“You’re not English?” He changed the subject. - -“No, I’m a Florentine.” - -“But how charming! I have always loved Florence. I spent several -summers there when I was a boy. Let me see ... I was there last in -19.... It’s not important. How I loved those doors, though!” - -He saw that the young man named Robert Holton was beginning to look -bored and Lewis hated above all else to be thought a bore even by a -bore. - -“And _you_ have been to Florence?” - -Holton nodded. - -Carla said, “That was where we met the first time. He’s an old friend -of our family’s.” - -“How droll that must’ve been for you, finding this charming boy here -at Helena Stevanson’s who, though I love her dearly, gives the dullest -parties in New York.” - -“They _are_ dull. I wonder why people come. Why do you come?” - -“I’m a creature in constant need of companionship. I go to everything. -I _must_ see a lot of people or I become most dreadfully morbid -and then I write poems.” - -She smiled. “I remember you used to write some good poems.” - -He laughed, pleased. “You remember then? That was so long ago. I -somehow have gotten all out of the habit.” - -“Perhaps you see too many people.” - -“That may be right and, speaking of people, you lovely ones must have -dinner with me this evening, otherwise I must eat alone; I’ve been -deserted today by everyone.” - -“I’m afraid,” said Carla, “that we can’t....” - -“That’s not a bad idea,” said Holton much to Lewis’s surprise--to -Carla’s surprise, too. Lewis looked at her and saw she was surprised. -He was amused, wickedly amused. There was something between them. - -“You must really join me. I know of the most interesting place in the -Village. I know you’ll love it.” - -“Don’t you want to go?” asked Holton, looking at Carla. - -“Why....” She didn’t know what to say. - -“Certainly you’ll come; three is good company.” - -Carla gestured uncertainly with her hands. - -“Perhaps I’d better come back in a moment,” said Lewis, smiling -maliciously at Carla. “I so hope I’m not upsetting plans.” He made -bowing movements and retreated into the center of the party. - -As he withdrew he could see the long look Carla gave the young man. - - * * * * * - -The men from Wall Street bored Mr Heywood. He tried to act like them -but from time to time he could not help implying gently to them that he -was a broker through heredity, not inclination. It was so much easier -doing what his father had done than to do something else or nothing at -all. He had a puritanical horror of doing nothing. His family had made -him believe that it was necessary always to work and he rather liked -the work, too. It made him think less about his own uniquely miserable -life. - -His wives were a large part of the general dreariness of his life. He -never seemed to marry the right women. They either wanted his money -or wanted to dominate him. He was used to domination by now but it -made him uneasy sometimes to feel that his own will was so easily bent -by others. He was always making stands, erecting firm barriers, but -somehow the barriers usually collapsed. He wondered sometimes if he -shouldn’t collect stamps or have a hobby like that. - -Thinking of this, he began now to divorce himself from the group of -Wall Street people. He promised to have lunch with one, to call up -another; he bowed to a third, shook hands with a fourth and then he -floated softly away, a look of quiet happiness on his face: he was now -alone in the midst of a party. - -Mr Heywood looked about him to see if there was anyone he might like -to talk to. He would prefer some young woman who looked lonely. His -three wives had all looked lonely at one period of the courtship and -he had married them as much for this corresponding loneliness as for -anything else. He had been mistaken three times but he was, in general, -an optimist. - -There seemed to be no lonely-looking young women. He sighed and was -about to leave the party when he saw Robert Holton. He remembered him -clearly; he was proud of his memory. Now he would have to speak to him. -It would be difficult, but then he had always been taught that if a -thing was particularly unpleasant it should be done: character was made -in this fashion and character was more important than anything else. He -proceeded to mould his character. He walked toward Robert Holton. - -Mr Heywood approached Holton from behind and he could overhear his -conversation with a dark pretty woman. - -Holton was saying, “I think it might be interesting. After all, Carla, -I don’t get out much and if a person like Lewis wants us to go I think -we should.” - -“If you want to, Bob.” She was a foreigner, thought Mr Heywood with -interest. “I’d hoped we might have had dinner together and try to ... -to talk of.... I’m not saying this well, I’m sorry.” - -“No, Carla....” Mr Heywood drifted between them now. - -“Mr Holton?” he asked. - -“Oh, Mr Heywood! How do you do, sir?” Robert Holton was impressed as -always with Mr Heywood’s greatness and this both saddened and pleased -Mr Heywood. - -“I had thought ...” began Mr Heywood in a barely audible voice. - -“This,” said Holton quickly on top of Mr Heywood’s words, “is Mrs -Bankton, an old friend of mine. Mr Heywood.” - -The meeting was made and Mr Heywood was rather attracted to this pretty -girl who spoke English so beautifully and yet with an accent. - -“I thought I should find you here, Mr Holton. Mrs Stevanson was telling -me about you.” - -“That was nice of her.” - -“She is a charming woman,” said Mr Heywood, praising an absent person -about whom they all cared very little; it filled the first awkwardness -of a meeting such as this. “You enjoy being downtown?” He was careful -not to associate himself with Holton’s job. - -“Oh, very much,” said Holton. - -“By the way,” asked the dark pretty woman, “what are you doing now? You -haven’t told me.” - -Holton flushed and Mr Heywood was sorry for him. “I’m working in a -brokerage office.” - -She laughed. “But how dreadful that must be.” - -Holton looked miserable and Mr Heywood, who rather agreed with her, -laughed. “It’s not too terrible, Mrs Bankton. Some of us manage to -survive it. I think a sense of humor is the most important thing.” - -“I’m sorry,” she said. “I had no idea you were also in the same -situation.” - -How delightful she was, thought Mr Heywood. “We must all,” said Mr -Heywood in a voice that was like the sigh of a dying man, “do our -appointed tasks. Duty is of such great importance: it is the only -tangible thing in the chaos of living.” - -“But I don’t think that’s so at all,” said Carla as gently as he but -with less resignation. “One should always try to do what one wants to -do.” - -“In spite of one’s duty to others?” - -“People that you love?” - -“No, that I ... that one admires and respects.” - -“And this makes you happy?” - -“Are any of us happy?” asked Heywood in a voice of weary sadness; he -stopped, suddenly remembering that young Holton was there. It would -never do for him to hear these things. - -“I talked,” he said casually, “with Murphy about you today. He seemed -most enthusiastic.” - -“That’s nice. I like working with him.” - -“Perhaps,” said Mr Heywood, looking at a spot somewhere over Holton’s -head, “perhaps you would be interested in working in the jobs that, ah, -come in contact with the public.” He could not say selling: he tried -but he could not. He wondered if maybe a long trip to South America -would give him a new perspective. - -“I think that would be wonderful!” Holton was moved as he should be. -An affable young man, thought Mr Heywood who, as a rule, did not like -men at all, especially young men who seemed to be able to get all the -lonely young women they wanted. - -“Perhaps,” murmured Mr Heywood, “something can be arranged in the near -future.” He looked at the dark woman beside Holton and he thought her -an unusually real person to find in such a place as this. She was -probably not real, though: only an illusion with long white hands and -silvery nails. He was used to women vanishing. - -George _Robert_ Lewis appeared and Mr Heywood experienced a slight -spasm of nausea. He found Lewis hard to be with. Mr Heywood would not -have said that being a broker was a productive life but if, to be an -artist, it was necessary to be like Lewis he had no desire to be an -artist. - -“How do you do?” said Lewis, bowing very low and smirking at him. - -“And how are you?” inquired Mr Heywood politely, beginning to retreat -slowly. - -“Doing marvelously. These charming people here are dining with me, -aren’t you?” - -Carla looked uncertain and Holton nodded. Mr Heywood wondered where -Holton had run across Lewis. - -“I’m really,” said Lewis in a conspiratorial voice (an old woman’s -voice, thought Mr Heywood, frowning slightly), “just doing a job. Her -husband is one of our idols and I may get a perfectly marvelous essay -out of her. I knew his work so well.” Mr Heywood wondered vaguely why -Lewis was explaining so many things. - -“I see,” said Mr Heywood. He turned to Carla. “Delighted to have met -you.” He nodded to Holton. “I shall probably see you tomorrow.” - -“Yes, sir; good night, sir.” Mr Heywood glided away toward the door. - -Mrs Stevanson appeared beside him just as he had made up his mind to -leave. - -“Do cheer up, Heywood. You look so petulant!” - -“I’m not really, Helena, not really.” - -“I’m not so sure. Who’re you looking at?” He glanced away quickly but -she saw that he had been watching Carla. “Lovely, isn’t she? I’m afraid -she’s stuck with that Holton boy and, my Lord, George _Robert’s_ -got her, too. The poor child and ...” Mrs Stevanson was surprised. “I -do think they’re leaving!” - -“After all,” said Heywood soothingly, “it _is_ a cocktail party. -They probably weren’t able to find you.” - -“I suppose you’re right, Heywood. Manners change so. She looked rather -unhappy, I thought.” - -“Who?” - -“Mrs. Bankton.” - -“Really. I didn’t notice.” - -“I don’t suppose you did; men don’t notice very many things anyway,” -said Mrs Stevanson, suddenly exhibiting her bitterness. She controlled -herself quickly. “Except men like you, Heywood dear.” - -“Thank you, Helena.” He bowed without movement; he suggested a bow -without actually executing it. “Now I must really be going.” - -“So soon, Heywood, so soon?” - - - - - _Chapter Ten_ - - -Carla was angry with Robert Holton, angrier still with George -_Robert_ Lewis. She had hoped to have dinner alone with Holton. -She wanted time to recover a past emotion and now she would have very -little time. As they drove through the lighted streets she looked with -dislike at Lewis’s smooth boyish face. - -None of them spoke after they got into the cab outside Mrs Stevanson’s -place. Lewis had given the driver an address and they had relaxed, each -thinking of different things: Holton pleased to be seeing life; Lewis -pleased to have secured the wife of a great figure; Carla displeased -with the arrangement, Carla plotting murder. - -Robert Holton sat in the middle. Carla had decided that if she had to -spend an evening with Lewis she at least wouldn’t sit next to him. - -She looked at Holton as they drove down Seventh Avenue. He was looking -straight ahead. His well-formed, not very strong mouth was set in a -straight line; he was trying to be firm now; he was trying to convince -her that he was right in accepting Lewis’s invitation for them. - -She sighed loudly so that she would be heard and understood. Then -she looked out the window and examined the neon signs that broke the -darkness with many colors. She liked the lights. - -The taxicab stopped on a side street where a dozen or more signs -advertised night clubs. They got out and Lewis paid the driver. - -“Where is it?” asked Holton, looking about him. - -Lewis pointed to some steps. “Right down there. I suppose it’s open; -you know, there was some talk that the police might close it but I -don’t think they will. Shall we go in?” - -Carla could see that Holton was wondering what he meant when he said -that the police might close it. She understood herself and she was -rather pleased now: it would be a lesson for him, an experience that he -needed. - -Lewis led them down the steps and into the night club. - -There were two large rooms: one light and garish, with a long bar, many -mirrors and booths; the other was darker, with tables and, at one end, -a small band on a small stage. They went into the darker room. The -headwaiter recognized Lewis and was very polite to him; he showed them -to a table near the stage. - -“Isn’t this charming?” asked Lewis. “I think it has a wonderful -atmosphere.” He grinned at Carla. She nodded. - -“It’s not too garish,” she said. “So many American places are too -light.” - -“Do they have a floor show?” asked Holton. - -“A very unusual one,” said Lewis, giggling. “I’m sure you’ll think -it great fun. Hermes de Bianca is the star of the show and his dance -is perfectly magnificent. He is one of the great artists, great -interpretive artists, I mean.” - -“Is that right?” - -A waiter came to take their order. He was a curious-looking waiter, a -type which Carla recognized but Holton did not. He wore no uniform. She -looked around the room and found that none of the others wore uniforms. -They were dressed casually. This waiter’s hair was long, unpleasantly -long and the front of it had been carefully bleached. He was thin and -moved stiffly, self-consciously, like a woman thinking of rape. On one -of his fingers he wore a large ring with a bizarre stone in it. - -“What do you people want?” His voice was irritable and high. He was -looking interestedly at Holton who was looking just as interestedly at -him. - -“I’d love something to drink,” said Lewis. “How about the rest of you?” - -The waiter looked at Lewis for the first time. His face brightened. -“George, it’s you! How lovely to see you! You haven’t been here in such -a long time.” - -“I’ve been dreadfully busy,” said Lewis coldly, disengaging himself -from the waiter’s assumed relationship. - -“I think,” said Holton, “that I’d like a highball.” They all decided -to have the same thing and the waiter, with a slight toss of his head, -walked away. - -The small band was playing loudly and eagerly. One sentimental modern -song after another was catapulted into the room. Fortunately, after -several minutes the band stopped playing and the musicians departed. - -“I’m glad they’re gone,” said Carla. “They make too much music.” - -“They aren’t very delicate.” Lewis turned suddenly to Holton. “And you, -what do you do?” - -Holton flushed. “Well, I work in a brokerage house.” - -Lewis’s eyebrows went up and he elaborately showed surprise and -disbelief. “But how remarkable! You’re not an artist! Surely you must -do something wonderful. You have the hands of an artist. You’re just -working there because you have to. That’s it, isn’t it?” - -“No, that’s not it.” Carla admired his courage. “I don’t mind working -there and it’s probably going to be my career.” His jaw got very firm. -She liked him this way. - -“How marvelous!” exclaimed Lewis. “A contented Babbitt.” He stopped. -“What a dreadful thing to say: that’s such a Nineteen-Twenty phrase. -Really, I sometimes wonder if art is the answer to our problems.” - -“I think it might be to the artist,” said Carla softly. - -Lewis bowed. “_Touché_, my dear. Let’s say the dedication to art, -the freedom from conventions. Perhaps this young man’s view is the -saner: to accept the pattern.” He was mocking now but he did not show -it in his face. - -“Some things you have to accept,” said Holton, aware of Lewis’s -mockery. “Sometimes there is nothing else.” - -“There is always something else,” said Lewis decidedly. - -“I think that’s right,” said Carla. - -“What?” asked Holton. “What else can you do but that?” - -“Run away,” said Lewis. - -“Fall in love,” said Carla. - -But neither solution was convincing to Holton and Carla could think of -no way to explain herself. There seemed, at the moment, no words to -record her meaning, no bridge to reach him. They were all three quiet, -thinking of questions and answers. - -Finally their silence killed the problem and they began to notice the -room they were in and the other people. The people at the different -tables were not, generally, mixed. Several women would sit at one -table and several men would sit at another. Around the room were small -tables for two and here men sat with men and women with women. This was -puzzling to Holton, she could see. He said nothing, though, and she -had a great sudden ache of tenderness for him, a desire to protect his -innocence. But this she could not do. She was a stranger to him and he -had forgotten. - -Cigarette smoke veiled the room bluely and everything seemed tenuous -and unreal. The sound of voices and ice clattering, of forks striking -plates and of many people moving and breathing together made an -ocean-like roar in Carla’s ears. The room was hot and the smell of -perfume was strong. - -The band returned and began to play. They played much more softly than -they had before and she was grateful. Conversation was not difficult -when the music was soft. In fact, the music seemed to underline many -things, made emotional statements dramatic. Unfortunately, with George -_Robert_ Lewis sitting at the table there was no opportunity -to make emotional statements. He would have to leave. She began to -concentrate on this as they talked now of trivial things. Finally he -received her subconscious message. He stood up. - -“I hope you’ll excuse me a moment but I have to go backstage. I’ll only -be gone a minute.” He left quickly, going around the stage and behind -the crimson curtain. - -“He’s a funny little queer, isn’t he?” commented Holton. - -“He’s one of the great aesthetes. You’re glad you came tonight?” - -“It’s interesting,” he said. He was defending himself now. - -“This is a very ...” she paused, trying to think of the right word, -“trivial world. I don’t think you’ll like it.” - -“Perhaps I will. I used to be something of a sculptor.” He said this -laughing, and she could see that he was quite serious. - -“Then why don’t you do it?” - -“I wasn’t good enough. I haven’t done any since I was in college.” - -“Would you like to do it?” - -“I don’t think so.” She couldn’t tell whether he meant this or not. - -The waiter came and put their glasses down on the table with a look of -boredom; in fact, he yawned slightly as he did it. He tried to catch -Holton’s eye but failed. Sulkily he walked away. - -“I don’t want this,” said Carla, pointing to the glass. - -“I’ll take it,” said Holton and he began to drink his own, his teeth -making clicking sounds as the ice bobbed against them. - -“You like what you’re doing now?” asked Carla. - -He put the glass down and frowned. “I suppose I do. I have to do it and -so I figure I might as well like it.” - -“Perhaps you might find something you like better.” - -“What?” - -“You might be a sculptor again.” - -He laughed. “I’m really no good. I can’t do anything else but this. I -don’t see anything wrong with what I’m doing, anyway.” - -“There’s nothing wrong with it if you’re happy; are you?” He didn’t -answer for a moment. Then he said, “I suppose I am.” - -“But you’re not in love?” - -“What has that to do with it?” - -“So many things,” said Carla, and she did not look at him; she avoided -his eyes. He did not understand. She could see that now. The desire, -however, to make him destroy his barriers, to come alive, was becoming -an obsession with her. And then, of course, he had been the first man -she had known and that made him important to her. She had never lost -her feeling for him and she was sad to see him confused; Carla thought -of herself as Joan of Arc: helping the king to his throne. She was not -yet sure, however, that the king wished to reign. - -The music was becoming soft and sentimental. Full round chords gushed -around them and people danced on the stage. Men danced with women and -women with men for there was not really much courage among these people. - -“Would you like to dance?” asked Holton. - -“Not right now.” - -He was not disappointed. She watched him as he watched the other people -in the room. This was something new for him. She guessed that he was -shocked by the people he saw at the different tables. He showed nothing -in his face, though. Perhaps he did not recognize them, did not know -them the way she did: she who had married one of them. - -“It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?” said Holton finally. - -“Yes, but I haven’t forgotten any of it, have you?” - -“Of course not. Naturally I didn’t know whether you wanted to talk -about it. I figured that ... well, after you married Bankton you -wouldn’t want to think about what we did.” - -“I don’t,” said Carla, “love Bankton.” - -He was shocked and she knew that she had said the right thing if in the -wrong manner. - -“But you got married,” said Holton. - -She nodded. “I’m afraid I didn’t know very much about him then. I went -to London after the war was over and I stayed with some artists there. -I met him and he made love to me. I thought he was very wonderful. I -had heard stories about him: that he was ... was like these people -here.” She gestured to include the room. “I didn’t believe the stories. -I married him. I found he wanted me for camouflage.” - -“Why don’t you divorce him then?” - -“Perhaps I shall someday. It seems so much trouble, though. He’s really -a very nice person.” - -Holton shook his head, confused. “I don’t see ... I don’t see why he -married you in the first place if he was....” - -“He could still like me, Bob.” - -“I don’t see how.” - -She smiled. “It _is_ hard to explain but anyway you know now that -I don’t feel too deeply about him. You understand this?” - -“I suppose so,” said Robert Holton. He _is_ beginning to -understand, thought Carla, happy now: her words had begun to build the -bridge between them. Soon they would meet again. - -“You’ve certainly had a funny life,” said Holton, smiling. - -“Sometimes I think so but then the most important thing is making -a freedom for oneself. When that’s done nothing is strange because -everything is natural. You know what I mean?” - -He nodded. “Sometimes I know.” - -She picked up a fork and drew pictures on the white tablecloth. “I want -you to be free,” she said. - -“Free from what?” - -“You know. From your routine and morals: the things you don’t want.” - -He laughed. “You know pretty well what my set of morals is and I don’t -mind the routine so much.” - -“I think you do.” - -“Why?” - -“Why did you want to come here with Lewis tonight? Why are you with me -now?” - -He smiled. “Perhaps you’re partly right. I was curious and I do get -bored and....” - -“And you’re alone.” She spoke for him. - -He finished his drink and did not answer her; there was no need to -answer her. - -“Are you glad,” she asked at last, “are you glad to see me again?” - -He said that he was. He declared that he was. He made an issue of -it. He was still not at ease with her and she felt desperate. It was -like a battle between them; first one side retreating and the other -advancing.... Or perhaps a hunt. She was the hunter and her memories -the pursued. She knew that beneath his many assumed faces there was the -person she had known in Florence. Deliberately Carla began to smash the -faces. - - * * * * * - -George _Robert_ Lewis had a very pleasant interview with de -Bianca, the star; after a half-hour, though, he was beginning to get -restless. Dancers seldom talked about anything interesting. Finally he -excused himself, saying that his guests were waiting for him. - -They were talking quietly and intimately when he got back to the table. -He took a secret pleasure in interrupting them. Lewis had already -decided that they were lovers. - -“I’m so dreadfully sorry that I went off and left you the way I did. It -was stupid of me but I got so involved with Hermes and his amours: he -tells me all about them and though they’re really quite dull I have to -be polite and listen. Have you ordered yet?” - -They said that they had not. Lewis immediately became noisily -efficient. He ordered the languid waiter about, gave him careful -instructions and ignored his glances and meaningful gestures. Lewis -never had liked this type at all. The ones like this waiter never -seemed to have any respect for him. They couldn’t understand the -principles for which he stood. They were not artists. - -The dinner finally ordered, he turned toward his guests, a -white-toothed smile on his slightly rouged lips (Hermes had lent him -rouge). - -“Are you adoring the atmosphere, my dear Mrs Bankton? It’s nothing to -compare with Paris, of course, but you must admit that it’s a lot gayer -than Rome. I love Rome and usually have a marvelous time there but -somehow one never seems to find the same easy atmosphere that we have -here.” - -“No, it is not like Rome,” agreed Carla. What wonderful golden skin she -has, thought Lewis, enjoying her aesthetically. He didn’t dislike women -the way many of his friends did. He felt, in fact, most compatible with -them. - -“Are there many places like this in New York?” asked Holton. Lewis was -pleased that he had caught on. Lewis, always optimistic, wondered if it -might not be possible to make some sort of an arrangement.... It was -not impossible, certainly. - -“Oh, quite a few, quite a few. They _are_ rather charming from -time to time. I enjoy visiting them and I do feel that the atmosphere -is not uncongenial.” He wondered if perhaps he hadn’t been using the -word “atmosphere” too much. - -“I’ve heard about these places,” said Holton without much expression. - -“Surely you don’t disapprove?” Lewis was intent on discovering this -now. He could see that Carla was uneasy. Holton was unsatisfactory, -though. - -“I don’t care much one way or the other,” he said and he turned to -Carla and began to talk to her again. Lewis, disappointed, listened to -them as they talked of Fiesole. - -Lewis was not quite sure what their relationship was. As they talked he -gathered that she was more interested than he in continuing it. That -was usually the case, however. Young men like Holton were apt to be a -little unfeeling, a little stuffy. George _Robert_ Lewis thought -pleasantly of young men. - -When he felt that they had talked too long without him, he interrupted. -“When were you last in Fiesole?” He looked at Carla, intending the -question for her; it was difficult not having a name to call her. - -She looked at him as though she had forgotten him completely. “In -Fiesole? I was there just a year ago.” - -“I suppose it’s pretty well recovered from the war. I told you how I -used to love visiting there before the war. I hope it will always be -pleasant.” - -“I think it will,” said Carla. - -“Europe must’ve been very nice before the war,” said Holton. - -George _Robert_ Lewis made an elaborate motion to show just what -it had been before the war; as he was finishing his movement the waiter -brought them their dinner: a number of dishes with filet of sole at the -center. - -“I hope you enjoy it,” said the waiter spitefully, putting the dishes -down loudly and angrily. He walked away, his duty done. - -Lewis sighed. “These dreadful waiters, they presume so. I suppose that -it’s all a part of the American dream. Shall we begin?” Like a priest -of a pagan cult he began to perform the ritual of arranging plates, of -removing covers, of neatly moving food from plate to plate, and finally -of eating. The others imitated him. - -“When,” asked Robert Holton, after the main part of the dinner had been -eaten, “will the show start?” - -Lewis put down his fork carefully, swallowed, and said, “Very soon, -I think. What time is it?” There was an examination of watches: -ten-fifteen. “The show starts at ten-thirty. I hope you’re not -impatient. The audience is very often as interesting as the show. But I -must say that de Bianca’s dance is in another world and that we mustn’t -miss it. I’ll be very curious to know how you react.” - -“There used to be a place in Paris like this where they had a wonderful -dancer of the same type. I suppose he’s the type of dancer I think he -is?” said Carla. - -“He is quite probably the sort of dancer you think he is,” said Lewis, -smiling, excluding Holton from his words. “The only difference is -that he is a great artist, interpretive artist, I mean. I know you’ll -appreciate him.” - -A group of people who knew Lewis came over to their table. They acted -most respectfully and he hoped that Carla and Holton were noticing what -an important person he was. He spoke nicely to them, shook hands with -them, and let them know that he was busy. They left him then, smiling. -Smiling himself, he turned to Carla and Holton and he was disappointed -to find them talking together again. Holton had taken Carla’s hand in -his and Lewis felt a strange anguish, felt an inward betrayal. He did -not know what had been betrayed, however. - -“I’m sorry, my dear, that I didn’t introduce you to those people. It -was rude of me because they _all_ admire your husband’s work.” - -“That’s perfectly all right,” said Carla. “I know so little about his -work. I’m only a layman, you know.” - -“I can hardly believe that. You must’ve been an artist yourself at one -time.” - -She shook her head. “No, I was never an artist at anything. Except at -living, perhaps.” Trumpets sounded loudly from the band, giving her -statement an absurd grandeur. She sensed this and laughed. “I wish to -say that I try to make my life a complete thing.” - -“But what a marvelous thing to want to do! All of us try that but when -we fail at it (and alas we most of us fail) then we must find ourselves -a medium to guard our egos, to protect our fears.” - -“That’s for the talented, Mr Lewis, but for the rest of us, the -majority, only our lives count. We must make them natural.” - -“And that,” said Robert Holton suddenly, “is for the rich to do. The -rest of us can’t even do that.” - -“How delightful!” exclaimed Lewis. “We have here the three -representatives of humanity: the rich and ... free? the poor and -trapped, and the artist who is finding both freedom and an opiate. But -how wonderfully symbolic! We’re practically an allegory. I suppose we -can reach some understanding.” - -“How?” asked Holton and Lewis could see that he was asking Carla, not -him. “How can you get what you want without money? I don’t see how you -can ever do what you want if you aren’t free.” - -“I think,” said Carla, “that you can become free. You can get free in -art and you can get free in love. Money hasn’t much to do with it. You -can’t go anywhere alone. I don’t think it’s possible to be sane alone, -without love.” - -“I think you’re right,” said Lewis sincerely and sadly, allowing -the now soft music to dissolve his mind into an emotional waste out -of which, of course, came art. “I think you have explained all the -tragedies in the world.” - -“And all the happiness,” murmured Carla, looking at Holton. Holton -smiled then. It was the first time that Lewis had seen him smile and he -was struck by the gentleness and beauty of his face. He was beginning -to see the person under the rather rigid mask and he understood now -why this quite wonderful woman was in love. Holton was about to say -something when the band made a crescendo and the lights on the stage -went up. The show was about to begin. - - * * * * * - -A slender little man, ineptly painted, appeared on the stage and -welcomed the audience to the night club. - -He then motioned and the lights in the room went out leaving only the -stage with its curtain backdrop lighted. The band began to play a -current song and the master of ceremonies proceeded to sing, using new -dirty lyrics which made the audience laugh. He then told a joke about -fairies. The audience laughed loudly at this, reveling in exposure; -often their masks became too tight, too heavy. He removed them. - -Finished with his joke, he bowed and several persons came onto the -stage. They were probably men. They wore dresses and several of them -had faces of great beauty. They danced, parodying women, transcending -the single sex. And in the audience people looked at one another and -nodded and looked again at the stage, smiles on their faces. - -When their dance was finished they left. There was much noise from the -audience. - -Then a thin young man swayed onto the stage, took the microphone in his -hands and sang a sexual funny song. - -“Who is that?” asked Carla, turning to Lewis. - -“Our waiter, darling,” whispered Lewis; “all the performers are -waiters, too. Isn’t it exciting?” - -Carla said nothing. Lewis looked at Holton. There was little light in -the room and he couldn’t make out his expression. Holton was sitting -motionless, one hand on the table, one hand touching Carla’s. - -Their waiter was so well received that he sang another song. - -More dancers appeared. This time they were real women and the men who -came out with them were dressed as men. They did a serious near-ballet -but, because they didn’t know how to dance very well and because they -didn’t particularly care, the dance was funny and Holton laughed. Lewis -and Carla didn’t laugh: for different reasons. - -Suddenly in the middle of the dance a voice off stage announced loudly, -“Jerry!” and a girl dressed in a fake tiger skin ran onto the stage. -The audience whistled and stamped and a table of girls near the stage -applauded hysterically. The girl’s face was square and smooth and hard, -without expression. Her body was strong and slim and startlingly white. -One shoulder and most of one breast were bare. - -She moved in a stylized jungle fashion among the other dancers who -ran from her, simulating fear as they did. Finally she was left alone -on the stage. She danced then, showing as much of her hard white body -as she could. Her face never changed expression, however. She always -looked straight ahead without smiling, her square face rigid. - -And, at last, as a climax, she unfastened the tiger skin and with a -quick gesture pulled it off and for a moment let the audience see her -white hard body. Then the lights went off and she disappeared as the -women in the audience shrieked their delight and the men, catching some -of the hysteria, applauded loudly. - -The lights came on again and the stage was empty. The band played -uncompelling music. “What,” asked Lewis, turning to Holton, “did you -think of her? Isn’t she a perfect savage?” - -“No, I don’t think she is,” said Holton seriously. “I don’t think she -was good at all, did you?” - -“Why, yes, I thought she had something. A certain ... how shall I say -... banked fire?” - -“I agree with Bob,” said Carla. “I don’t think she’s a savage; I don’t -think she’s natural.” - -“Just prejudice,” said Lewis lightly, gesturing with his hand. “Just -prejudice; anyway, the girls here love her.” He pointed to a table of -women. The dancer, wearing a dressing gown now, was sitting on the lap -of one. - -Holton chuckled. - -“What amuses you?” asked Lewis but Holton wouldn’t answer him. - -Carla told them of a dancer in Paris, like this dancer, and as she -talked the lights went off in the room and the band began to play. -Suddenly a spotlight was turned upon the stage and the room became -quiet as the people waited to see the thing they had heard of, the -thing they had come to see. - -Softly the orchestra played. - -A boy with blond curling hair and a smooth white face walked onto -the stage, turned his back to the audience, and hung a round silver -moon from a hook attached to the low ceiling. He stood back a moment, -looking at the moon, and then, satisfied that it was right, he stepped -off the small stage and sat down on a bench near the wings. - -The silver moon shone dully, dominating the stage and the room. In the -middle of the moon there was a mask: a painted mask, enticing, sexual, -ambiguous, a youth or a woman. From this mask long veils of pink and -blue silk quivered gently, stirred by the now-excited breathing of the -audience. They watched this mask and, watching, waited for the dance to -begin. - -A voice came startlingly into the room from a loud-speaker. Said the -voice: “We take great pride in introducing the star of our show, the -one and only Hermes de Bianca. To the music of a Tschaikovsky concerto -he will do a dance symbolic of the struggle between the material and -the spiritual natures of man. Introducing MR HERMES DE BIANCA!” - -The band began to play the concerto. More lights, multicolored lights, -were turned upon the stage. The veils of the moon fluttered and Hermes -de Bianca entered. - -A long sigh came from the audience as he appeared and began to dance. - -He wore a thin silk costume, mysterious and black, with flowing -sleeves. He was fat, not grossly fat like a man, but rather the plump -voluptuousness of an old belle; his skin shone white through the -semi-transparent costume. - -His hips were heavy and feminine. His hands and feet were tiny; he was -very proud of them, for he gestured with his hands and pirouetted on -the tips of his dainty feet. His breasts were the breasts of a woman. - -Methodically he danced. With an obscene grace he moved about the stage, -moved like a yielding woman exulting in her passivity. - -His face: - -There are the faces of men and there are the faces of women and there -are also the faces of children, but this was yet another face. - -The skin was smooth and silken-looking. The face was beautiful; -his eyes were widened with paint and across the upper eyelids rows -of shining, diamond-like stones were glued, making his slightest -expression glitter in the light. - -As he danced he would touch his hair from time to time, using the most -common of feminine gestures. His hair was dark and oiled, with an -artificial peak over the forehead. And, most striking of all, streaks -of gray had been painted at the temples. - -The music then became sad and, as it did, his dance became slower, -more sensual. His wide painted mouth was never still, always working, -always moist, the lips never without expression; now parted, showing -desire, now petulant, now commanding, always enticing young men to love. - -He moved with great lightness, handling his heaviness gracefully as he -advanced upon the moon, making love to the mask. - -Then, as the music became louder, more compelling, he whirled and -twisted among the veils of the moon, wrapping himself in them, -surrendering to the mask, approaching and retreating, always attracted -to the painted mask. - -But, finally, he was the one conquered, the one who surrendered, the -passive one. And he stood there, the sounds of music all about him, -engulfing him, his back arched, his head thrown back and his plump -white stomach shuddering beneath the dark material of his costume. - -And then, as the music reached a climax, he whirled in the center of -the stage, violent, obscene in a desire to be possessed. - -The music stopped. - -There was silence in the room--no sound save the unheard thundering -of many quick-beating hearts. The ones who understood were too moved -to speak and the ones who did not understand were embarrassed and -sickened, aware of their danger, and afraid. - -He bowed to the audience now, his moist red mouth smiling brilliantly, -the mouth of an actress awaiting applause. The applause came, -destroying the silence in the room, creating another less frightening -mood, replenishing his ego. - -Smiling, he walked in triumph off the stage. - -The lights were turned on at last and the orchestra played a popular -song. - -The boy took down the silver moon and the painted mask and as he walked -away he took the reality of the dream with him and couples began to -dance on the stage where Hermes de Bianca had danced. Yet as they -danced, close to one another, there was a certain fear within each of -them, an uncertainty and a dread. - - * * * * * - -“What do you think of that?” asked Lewis. - -He was breathing quickly, Carla noticed. His face was flushed and he -was excited, more excited than she had thought he could possibly be. - -“It is very ... erotic,” she said, knowing how inadequate that word was. - -Holton was sweating when she turned to ask him what he thought. He -looked angry. - -“Did you like it, Bob?” she asked. - -“No, I didn’t,” he said. He took out his handkerchief and dried his -face. “Christ, but it’s hot in here. Why don’t we go?” - -“In a moment,” said Lewis, now recovered. “You must meet dear Hermes. -I’ll go back stage and get him.” He stood up, looked around the room to -see if he were being watched; then, satisfied that he was, he went back -stage. - -“You don’t care for this?” Carla asked. - -“I guess I don’t. I never saw anything like this before. I used to hear -a lot of stories but I didn’t think there were really such places.” - -“There are many a lot worse, said Carla. Of course I’m used to it. You -see my husband is....” - -He smiled. “I guess you were right about not coming here.” - -“You don’t regret it?” - -“It’s interesting.” - -“I think it was a very good idea for you to see something of this -world. Perhaps you can understand me better now, knowing that I’m -living with people like these, married to a person like Lewis.” - -He frowned and looked very serious and she was happy to see him -concerned. “Can’t you leave him, can’t you leave Bankton?” - -“Where would I go? He’s a charming person and I like him. I’d have to -find someone else before I could leave.” - -“Yes,” he said, not understanding her, “I see what you mean.” - -George _Robert_ Lewis returned leading Hermes, still in costume, -by the hand. - -Everyone was polite. Hermes lisped that he was glad to meet them and he -shook hands squashily with both Holton and Carla. Then they sat down at -the table. - -Lewis was excited. “You know Hermes has made the most dreadfully big -decision? He’s going to Rome!” Trumpets did not blow at that moment in -the band; they should have, though. - -Carla was puzzled. “You mean he’s going to Italy?” - -“No, darling, he’s becoming a Roman Catholic. Isn’t it the most -thrilling thing!” - -“I suppose so,” she said. “I used to be a Catholic myself.” - -“What happened?” asked Hermes in a lisping little girl’s voice. - -“I seemed to’ve gotten out of the idea. I married a Protestant, of -course.” - -“What a pity,” murmured Hermes, looking at Holton admiringly; “I think -it’s the only answer, really the only answer. Almost everyone I know is -going over to Rome so there must be _something_ in it.” - -“Perhaps there is,” said Carla. “I think in Italy we take the Church -too much for granted.” - -“I do wish,” said Lewis, “that I could get interested in it. There -seems to be such a rush for rosaries today. But I’m dreadfully afraid -I’m just a hedonistic pagan.” He put his hand on Hermes’ plump little -hand. “I’ve always felt that somewhere there is a faith that I could -grasp onto.” With his other hand he took a drink out of his recently -filled glass. “Sometimes one feels so lost, so homeless. I think there -must always be a womb-longing in each of us, a desire to go back where -we came from. I used to think that art was enough but I suppose I was -wrong because I never had much real satisfaction from it. Carla here -will say it is love that gives us a reason, but I don’t think so. I’ve -always been in love. Occasionally with my own image, I must admit, -but there _have_ been others. No, I never got much out of love. -Hermes here has his dancing, but I don’t think that was enough for him -either....” - -“Perhaps you’ve never given enough of yourself to another person,” said -Carla. - -“Vampire,” chuckled Lewis. “Our identities are the only real things -we have in this shadowy world.” He was in good form now and he was -becoming drugged with his own facility. “No, we must try to obtain a -faith, or at least a medium, to carry out our search for immortality, -or should I say perpetuation? Women, normal women, seem to have less -fear of death because they have the function of child-bearing. They are -able to experience their own perpetuation; and in their primitive way -they feel a part of all mankind and there are no real mysteries for -them, no need of logic. But man is different. The act of procreation -is a pleasure and not painful and, therefore, he does not observe that -in that function his own image is mirrored through eternity. He turns -then to art (the sensitive talented man, I mean now) and in making -pictures or books, playing at creation, he hopes to survive death but -he is never really convinced: at best he is hypnotized, he is drugged -by his art and in desperation he tries to make meaning out of his own -creations: playthings, in reality. And so he finds himself in the end -with chisel and mallet in his hands making a statue and no nearer -perpetuation, closer only to death.” - -“How beautiful!” exclaimed Hermes. “But that’s why we all have to go to -Rome.” - -“Perhaps that’s the answer.” He began to speak again, his flat voice -rising and falling without emotion in it. Carla looked at Holton -questioningly. He nodded. - -“Bob and I have to go now,” she said. - -“Oh, you must stay a little longer,” he pleaded. - -“We really have to go,” said Holton, rising. They thanked him (Lewis -insisted on paying the bill) and said good-bye. George _Robert_ -Lewis was still talking to Hermes as they left. - - - - - _Chapter Eleven_ - - -“How cool it is!” said Carla, as they walked along the street. “I -couldn’t breathe in there.” - -“It was a crazy place,” said Holton, looking straight ahead as he -walked, following the traffic lights. Carla occasionally drew him off -the curb and into the street but he always managed to obey the green -lights. - -They decided to walk uptown, to walk to Times Square. - -Carla felt light and happy now that Lewis had been left behind. - -“I like the air in New York,” she said. - -“The air?” - -“It’s exciting and silly and everyone is busy doing things they don’t -want to do but still it’s stimulating.” - -“I suppose so.” - -She hadn’t decided yet whether he tried to be noncommittal or whether -he had nothing to say. No, he had something to say: she was sure of -that. He was shy and he felt things very much but he was afraid to say -them. She remembered now that he had told her things about himself in -Florence. He had told her about his parents and his life, though he -hadn’t told her what he wanted to do. He still would not tell her that -and, if he knew, she would have to discover it. - -“How long are you going to be in town?” he asked. - -“I don’t know. A month perhaps, I don’t know. I think Bankton will be -coming over soon. They’re going to give him a big show here.” - -“I’d like to see him.” - -“He’d like to meet you, too.” She laughed. “I might lose you to him” -She stopped herself quickly. She shouldn’t have said “lose” because -they were supposed to be just casual friends; at least, that was the -basis he seemed to want. She mustn’t frighten him. “I don’t think you’d -like him,” she said easily, in control now. “He’s rather jealous and -disagreeable.” - -They crossed more streets, dodged more cars, bumped into more and more -people and, finally, they came to Times Square. - -At Forty-second Street they stopped and Carla looked at the lights for -a long time. - -It seemed as if all the commercialism in the world had decided to -concentrate itself in one place, as if by blazing colored lights and -moving signs it could justify itself. - -At one end of the square a giant sign exploded colors, advertising -cigarettes. Another cigarette advertisement had a man puffing smoke; -it was most realistic because real smoke or something like smoke came -out of his mouth. Soft drinks and chewing gum and cigarettes--all the -small things--were displayed in the most magnificent manner. There -was an almost religious appeal in the brightness of the lights, the -cathedral-like splendor of the signs which supported countless colored -bulbs of light: everything was so large, so magnificent, so desperately -appealing. - -“Such wonderful strength,” murmured Carla, “so much misguided energy.” - -“It’s very nice to look at,” said Robert Holton, speaking -self-consciously for America. - -They stood pressed against a building while hundreds of people pushed -by them in a thick stream. Carla studied the lights, mesmerized by -their colors: red passionate ones and guttering greens, blue and yellow -glowing, and moving figures; they even had the lights turn on and off -in such a fashion that silhouetted men appeared to dance and animated -animals had adventures. The lights were most splendid and nowhere in -the world was so much grandeur hung against the sky. Carla watched the -lights. - -Yellow taxicabs clattered by them and everyone moved quickly. Everyone -had at least a destination and that was a hopeful sign. She didn’t care -to think what their destinations might be. - -She looked at the buildings and saw that they were not tall. They -looked like buildings in Paris or London. Squat and dirty and rather -Victorian: the buildings were most ordinary but there was so much -light over them, against them, all around them that they became as -insubstantial as theater props. - -The movie houses which filled the lower parts of most of the buildings -of the square had the most light. Their marquees rippled and glittered -with names. Large posters were hung wherever there was no electricity. -People moved in constant streams into the movies, while other people, -as constantly, came out, blinking their eyes, adjusting themselves to -reality. - -Then there was the noise. Not a really individual noise, not like an -Italian crowd, hoarse and insistent, but a roar with sharp breaks and -a rhythm like an automobile engine, a noise like a discordant piece of -music with the rumblings of a subway train as a bass. The conversations -of many people made a sound as soothing and as natural as the sea but -the mechanical things made sharp overtones, set the rhythm of Times -Square and of many lives. - -Slowly Carla and Robert Holton allowed themselves to become a part of -the current of people, gliding with them toward the north end of the -square. - -First of all were the young adventurers: boys with dark skins and dark -clever eyes, dressed in the spirit of the jazz they had made their own -without understanding. Looking for sex, they walked together in groups, -talking in whining voices, unpleasant nasal voices. - -Young girls with bleached blond hair that looked untidy and unclean -walked in twos together, looking for men. Their well-formed bodies with -tight breasts moved self-consciously as they walked on awkward high -heels. They laughed too loudly, giggled too much and stared at sailors. - -The couples were the happiest-looking of all. They always walked with -wonder in their faces, conscious of each other as they walked through -all the light and sound. - -Old men in dirty clothes moved slowly, looking for cigarette butts. -This was not new to them; they had known the square before and found it -good hunting though not as congenial as quiet places. They had stopped -looking for sex: only cigarette butts. - -Cripples and bums sang songs and rattled tin cups. It was hard to tell -what they were looking for besides charity. Perhaps they had stopped -their long search. Carla was sorry for them. - -Hot stale air rushed out of the theater lobbies and from the bars and -restaurants; stale air rushed upward from the subway ventilators in the -sidewalk. The cool night was defeated by the city, even the darkness -had been defeated for it was as light as day, as light as day and much -prettier and more exciting. - -“What a place!” said Carla. “So _much_ is here. Is this the dream -Lewis was talking about?” - -“Maybe.” - -“I think,” said Carla, laughing, “this is the peak of your -civilization.” - -“Probably; it’s the sign of the century.” - -“But there will be other centuries.” And they thought of other -centuries when they would not be alive and they tried to see the square -in future years--if the square survived with the dream. - - * * * * * - -Outside the Bijou Theater Marjorie Ventusa stood, trying to make up her -mind if she wanted to see her favorite actress suffer. Marjorie liked -pictures that made her cry. She wasn’t sure, however, if she wanted to -cry tonight. - -Mrs Merrin had been quite pleasant that evening when Marjorie left and -this made her feel good. She stood now, undecided, Times Square all -around her. She often faced the high prices of the square to see new -movies. She liked crowded places because she felt happy with a lot of -people around her. - -She stood beside the box office, warmed by the air from the theater. -The sight of all the people and lights made her feel secure as though -she were not really alone, for she identified herself with every couple -that passed by. She had no envy. - -Marjorie was about to go into the movie when she saw Robert Holton -crossing a street on the other side of the square. She had a sudden -impulse to call him, to make herself heard over the hundreds of people. -Then she saw that he was not alone. She saw that he was with a dark -pretty girl: a woman from the world where he lived. Marjorie Ventusa -watched him as he walked with this person across the street. Then, on -the other side, she lost him. He had disappeared with the dark woman. - -The square had changed now and the lights were cruel. The noises became -oppressive and she felt shut out of the lives of the people who passed -her. - -Marjorie Ventusa grabbed her black patent-leather handbag close to -her and, controlling herself, she walked along the square. She walked -slowly, allowing others to push by her. She passed in front of many -movie houses and many bars. There was a great noise all around her, -harsh voices and much laughing. She hated the laughing the most. Two -young girls were stopped by two sailors in front of her and they spoke -together in the light of a red neon sign. The sailors said something -and the girls laughed. Quickly Marjorie Ventusa walked by them. - -A group of boys were standing in a blue light and they were laughing -in their harsh changing voices. She wished they would stop. Looking -downward, she walked through the crowd, no longer with it. - -Marjorie Ventusa was the center now of laughing people and her eyes -were dazzled by changing lights. - -Finally, out of breath, and at the northern end of the square, she -stopped and pressed against a building. She looked back at the places -she had just left and she was tired. - -A stout little man was staring at her. He was trying to figure out what -she was and what he might dare do. She looked at him with disgust, but -he was not bothered by this and, thinking her a whore, he separated -himself from the crowd and came over to where she stood. He leaned -against the building a few feet from her. Slowly, calmly he took a -package of cigarettes out of his pocket. He turned to her now, offering -her a cigarette. - -“Want a smoke?” - -She shook her head. “No, thanks.” - -He took one himself and lighted it. He inhaled to show how calm he was -and then he said, “You want to walk maybe?” - -“No,” she said furiously, comparing him with Robert Holton. “I don’t -want to walk with you.” She turned away from him and went quickly -toward the nearest movie. Without once looking back she bought a -ticket. As she gave the ticket to the man at the door she heard the -stout man whistle as he walked past the theater. - -Setting her face, she walked into the marble and gold lobby. She -walked, conscious of a thousand nonexistent eyes watching her back. - -Then she entered the darkened hall of the movie. On the screen two -characters, simulating love, were laughing loudly. Marjorie Ventusa was -trapped. - -Caroline and Jim Trebling had been giggling all evening. Caroline had -never known anyone quite so amusing as Trebling. He had no respect for -anything; at least, no respect for the things most people did. He made -fun of her office and her job and he was pleasant as he did it; not -bitter as so many people were. - -He had suggested that they visit Times Square and go dancing in one of -the large dance halls there. She had tried to talk him into going some -place more expensive but he had said that he didn’t have the money and -that as long as you danced somewhere that was all that counted. - -From Fifth Avenue they walked along Forty-Seventh Street until, -finally, they came to the square. Trebling blinked. - -“It’s the damnedest sight! I don’t think it can compare with L.A. but -there really is something wonderful about it.” - -Caroline regarded the square without much emotion. She had seen it all -her life. “I think it’s too crowded,” she said finally, wishing that he -had decided to take her to a better place, a place with a big name, one -she could talk about later. - -He stood, however, staring at the lights; then he lowered his eyes from -the lights and looked at the people. She noticed now that he looked at -people a great deal. Even when they were talking he always stared at -people as though there was something wrong with them. - -“Why’re you looking around all the time?” asked Caroline. “I don’t -understand you at all. I don’t think they like being stared at.” - -“What?” He hadn’t been listening to her. “Why do I ... stare? I just -like to look at them and see what they’re so busy rushing around for.” - -“Don’t you know?” - -“No, do you?” - -“Well....” She hesitated, uncertain of her meaning, uncertain of what -they were talking about. - -He laughed. She admired his way of telling when she couldn’t understand -him; he never really embarrassed her by trying to talk over her head as -some men tried to do: not that they really could, of course. She was -an American woman and just as smart as any man. Caroline stood there -looking at the square with Trebling who had just laughed and saved her -from embarrassment; Caroline stood erect and sure of herself and her -emancipation, her arm in his. - -Then, without speaking, he led her across the middle of the square. -It was dazzling to cross between the many lights. Caroline liked the -colors. They seemed rather cozy to her. Times Square was in many ways -her symbol of home. It was no longer interesting because home is never -interesting but she liked it still. - -“Look at all the movie houses,” he said when they had gotten over on -the other side. “There’s so much of everything. But it’s dirty. It’s -all awfully dirty.” - -“Is it?” Caroline had not thought of that. Perhaps the square was not -very clean but how could it be? There were always so many people coming -to be impressed or depressed by it. - -“Bob used to talk a lot about this part of town, about Broadway. I -think he used to like it a lot,” said Trebling. - -“Is that right?” - -“Oh, sure. He was a playboy during the war.” - -Caroline was surprised but not very interested. “He sure’s changed a -lot,” she said. “He’s a nice fellow and I know you think a lot of him -but he’s a little dull ... now, anyway.” - -“I think,” said Trebling, “that people sometimes feel they have to -change to protect themselves. He’s just making a new life now.” - -“He’s certainly making a dull one.” - -“Not if it’s what he wants.” - -“Imagine working in an office if you could do something else!” - -“What about yourself?” - -Caroline flushed; she had found herself becoming so much involved with -Trebling’s personality that she had begun to lose her own in his: she -had begun to think that she was as free as he was or, rather, as he -felt he was. She had to retrace now; she must go back into herself. “I -can’t do anything else,” she said. “That’s all I know--working in an -office.” - -“You could get married.” - -“I suppose I could.” Purposely she left it at that. He didn’t ask her -anything else. They watched the square. - -Caroline was conscious of odors, too conscious of them. There were a -great many unpleasant odors in the square: beer and cigarette smoke and -exhaust; perfume and sweat and stale air from theaters and subways; -food cooking--hot dogs, hamburgers, popcorn and peanuts. She got a -little dizzy just breathing. - -“Come on, Jim,” she said, “let’s go find the dance hall.” - -They walked together along the crowded streets and as they walked he -told her wonderful stories of freedom that were not true but still very -interesting; and she thought him the most fascinating man she knew and -not at all like his dull friend Robert Holton. - -At last they came to a dance hall. As much as she liked the glitter -of the square it was a relief to go inside the red-upholstered, -mirror-walled dance hall where the only odors were of perfume and -cigarette smoke. - -“I haven’t been here for so long,” she said. - - * * * * * - -Mr Heywood came out of the theater. He had left in the middle of the -last act. It was his personal strategy to do this because it meant that -he missed the crowd and the long wait for his car to find him. - -The play had been dreary and he had seen it only because a friend of -his knew the girl in it. Besides, Mr Heywood did not like to go to -plays alone. His wife no longer went with him and he was afraid of -taking other women around with him because people talked. He did not -like any men at all. - -The street was almost deserted. The theaters still were full and their -chaste white light signs shone cleanly into the street. Two blocks away -was Times Square. He could just barely make out the colored sign of a -soft drink bottle. He shuddered as he thought of soft drinks. - -He stood in front of the theater, the light from the marquee shining -dramatically down upon him. He would stand here now without moving -until his waiting chauffeur saw him and took him away. To his left he -heard the sound of a motor starting. He did not look to his left. He -merely stood now, self-contained and passive, waiting. - -His car stopped in front of him. The chauffeur got out, opened the -door and said something to him and Mr Heywood said something to the -chauffeur and an understanding was reached. Mr Heywood got into the car -and the chauffeur drove down the street into the square and toward home. - -Mr Heywood shrank from the lights that suddenly made the inside of his -car as colorful as a rainbow. He tried not to look out the window at -the square but it was impossible not to look. His eyes were drawn by -the force of the lights and he looked out finally. - -All the cheapness he hated was in the square. The people of whom he was -terrified moved all about him now. The noises he hated to hear and the -lights he hated to see intruded. He shuddered and wondered if he was -going to be sick. - -Finally they left the square. - -He felt much better now that they were in the quieter darker places -of the city. Mr Heywood was lonely now. He had always been lonely and -that was his personal sadness. He wished that he were young. It was -impossible to be lonely when one was young. He wished that he were -Robert Holton. - - * * * * * - -Carla and Holton stopped to rest at the northern end of the square. -They stood upon a small island of concrete surrounded by avenues. A -red light shone across Holton’s face giving him a sinister expression. -Carla laughed. - -“What’s so funny?” - -“Your face ... you look like Mephisto.” He smiled and stepped out of -the red light and stood beside her. - -“What do you think of it now?” asked Holton as they stood on their -island, watching. - -“The things I’ve always thought. It’s very brilliant. It is a ... -production.” - -“Everyone comes to see it.” - -“And I think it means something different to each one. It’s like a work -of art that way.” She paused and added, “It is a work of art.” - -“An unfriendly one, though.” - -She shrugged. “Art doesn’t have to be friendly. To me all this bad -taste is very alive and miraculous.” She was going to say more but she -was not sure of her English. The language she had learned had been -literary and she was occasionally conscious of not speaking ordinary -words. Holton had not been listening, though. Caught in the magic she -had performed upon the square, he was melting into it, his eyes fixed -on the effect and not the details. - -“What a place to make a decision,” he said firmly, turning to look at -her. - -“A decision?” She was not sure of him now; not sure of the magic. “What -sort of decision?” - -“I’ll tell you later.” - -“If you like.” She could see that he was not ready to talk to her yet. -The signs were good, though. He was returning. - -Arm in arm they deserted their concrete island. They crossed the street -and stood for a moment on the edge of the square, looking back at the -lights. - -“Where do you want to go?” asked Holton. - -“Back to my hotel,” she said, not looking at him. - -“Shall I go with you?” - -“Do you want to?” She noticed that one of the largest signs had several -dead lights in it. - -“Of course I want to,” he said. - -She was very happy then. The bridge was completed. - -“Shall we walk? It’s not far.” He nodded. They left the bright square -and walked northward, not speaking. The bridge was not yet strong. - - - - - _Chapter Twelve_ - - -They stood a moment in the gray heavily carpeted corridor. The hotel -was an expensive one and this was the first time Robert Holton had been -inside it. - -“I’m down here,” said Carla, taking a key out of her bag. She led him -down the corridor. - -She stopped, unlocked a door, and they went inside. - -“In America you always try to make everything look expensive,” she -said. “But I like this room.” - -“Looks like Hollywood,” said Holton. Carla looked about her and agreed. -The walls were dull green and the ceiling white. The furniture was -low and modern and there was much glass in the room: mirrors and -glass-topped tables. Two large windows looked out on Central Park. At -the left was the doorway to the bedroom. - -“Bankton must have a lot of money,” murmured Holton. - -Carla smiled. “No, I have, but that’s not important. Sit down over -there, Bob.” She motioned to a white couch by the window. “Would you -like something to drink?” - -“If you want one.” - -While she fixed his drink she would be able to think of the right thing -to say. She felt constrained still and her heart was beating rapidly. -She prepared the drink deliberately and, satisfied that it was right, -she turned and walked over to him. “Here you are.” Then she sat down -beside him. - -They looked out at the city. Carla sat straight on the edge of the -couch, her eyes fixed on the tall buildings. She was conscious of -Holton’s slow breathing beside her. The silence was becoming difficult; -then he picked up his glass and ice clattered and the silence broke. - -“Tell me,” she said, sitting back in the couch, “what do you do during -the days? What does a broker do?” - -He opened his coat and relaxed. “Not much, I’m afraid. I get all sorts -of statistical books and I make out reports from them. It’s pretty -dull.” - -“How long are you going to have to do that?” - -“I don’t know ... a year maybe. I think Mr Heywood--he was the fellow -we met at the party--I think he’s going to move me out in the selling -end.” - -“You would like that?” - -“It means more money and it’s going to be my career.” - -“That’s right; it’s going to be your career.” - -Holton crossed his legs, using the movement to give himself time to -think. Carla waited, watching him. - -“Are you going to live in Florence?” he asked finally. - -This was not going at all well, she thought. “I think I may live there -part of the year. I think I shall travel first.” - -“Where? Where do you want to go?” - -“Some place in the Near East, some place like the _Arabian -Nights_--you’ve read it, haven’t you?” - -“I read it once.” - -“I always wanted things to be like that, to be enchanted.” - -“And you’ve been disappointed?” - -She nodded. “Sometimes I’ve been very disappointed but, you see, sooner -or later it’s all right. I’ve great faith in things being right.” - -“You’re a curious girl,” he said. He looked at her and she could see -her own face twice reflected in his eyes. “You don’t,” he said, “really -like Bankton, do you?” - -The words were making the proper patterns now. She turned so that he -would see all her face when she spoke. “Yes, I like him very much but I -don’t love him. I can’t love anyone without having it complete, without -having ... the other thing.” - -“What we had.” - -“Yes, what we had.” She felt that now he was coming back again. - -“It was so long ago, wasn’t it?” She wasn’t sure now that he was coming -back: “so long ago.” - -“I’ve remembered it,” she said. “It doesn’t seem long ago to me.” - -“I don’t mean that,” he said. “I meant that ... well ... so much has -happened to us since then. You’ve been married and I left the army....” - -“We’re not much different, are we?” She looked out the window now and -watched different lights go out in the tall buildings; for each light -that went out, though, someone else turned on another. “You know,” she -said, concentrating on the lights, “you know you were really the first -for me.” - -He was awkward now. “Yes, I guess I was. I didn’t....” - -“There were probably a lot of others for you in Europe. You know, I -haven’t really wanted any man since then.” - -This had to surprise; she wanted this to be her strongest weapon. She -looked at him now. He had put down his drink and he was looking at her. - -“Is that true?” - -She nodded. “I don’t know why I shouldn’t tell you. I couldn’t keep -from telling you.” She tried not to look at him. - -“You mean what happened to us in Italy was the only time...?” He was -confused. - -She turned then and looked at him, at the troubled eyes and the boy’s -mouth. “My dear, when something means a lot to you I think it’s hard to -take a substitute. You see, I made an object for myself. I was upset -when you left, naturally, because you’d become my object. I never heard -from you and so I married Bankton in London. I never lost my object, -though. It never changed.” - -“I’m sorry,” he said. - -Carla smiled. “I understand it now. You had so many women and I was -only one. I think that’s all right, I think that’s natural. I hoped -you might have felt the way I did. One always wants to be loved and -it’s not easy to find a lover. I never had another man--not because I -couldn’t, but because I didn’t want to. I was waiting all that time, -hoping to see _you_ again.” She had said everything now. He had -listened and there was nothing else she could do. - -He ran his hand through his hair. “I was very close to you,” he said. - -“I thought you were.” She was waiting. - -“You’re right, there were a lot of others, but I don’t think I loved -any of them.” - -“No one at all?” - -He didn’t answer. He stood up and walked across the room. Then he came -back and stood looking down at her. - -“I don’t know what to say. We were very close once and then I came back -here and made myself forget everything about Europe, everything that -had happened to me there. - -“It hasn’t been easy to do. The only way I could get by, though, was to -do what I’m doing: become a broker. I can’t be the way I was; I can’t -afford it. Of course I can still have all the girls I want and I can -have a good time. I suppose I can fall in love sometime ... again, but -I have to be a conventional person and I don’t mind. - -“Tonight those people were examples of freedom....” - -She interrupted him. “Not really freedom, self-indulgence perhaps.” - -“Whatever it is, they call it being free. I don’t want that. I couldn’t -have that kind anyway because I’m not talented; I don’t do anything -well and I know it.” - -“You can be a free person, though.” - -“How?” - -She sighed. “I’ve already told you and you already know. You can love.” - -“You think that’s the answer?” - -“I don’t know any other. It’s been important to me.” - -He sat down beside her, sat close to her. “I don’t know if I could love -someone,” he said. “I don’t know if I could love you the way you’d -want.” - -“You can,” said Carla. “You can do whatever you want.” - -His hand touched hers. She sat very straight then, her eyes on the -window, on the white lights. He put his arm around her shoulders and -kissed her and she closed her eyes upon the lights outside. - -For a long time they were like that on the couch. Then they separated -and stood up, self-conscious and shy, newly discovered. He motioned -with his hand toward the bedroom. She nodded and they went into the -bedroom together and met finally in the middle of the bridge. - - * * * * * - -Robert Holton held Carla from him at arm’s length and looked at her. -She was pretty, at this moment quite beautiful, her face white and her -greenish eyes glittering. - -“I’ve been waiting, Bob,” she said. “I’ve waited such a long time.” He -pulled her to him then, her body against his. A part of him was given -up entirely to making love but another part was still detached, still -watching. - -He helped her to undo her dress. Modestly now, with the reserve of -strangers, they stood back to back as they undressed. - -She was beautiful and he had forgotten that. She was not really pale: -her skin was gold. She was slim and cleanly made and her breasts were -small. They faced each other and looked at each other, the detached, -the lonely part of himself memorizing every detail of her. - -Carla walked slowly toward him and touched his shoulder. Tears were in -her eyes. - -“What’s the matter?” he asked. - -She shook her head and smiled: nothing was the matter now. - -He took her slowly then, pressing her against his body gently, every -nerve vibrating in both of them; hearts beating quickly. - -They stood like this in the middle of the room; then she broke away and -walked over to the bed and pulled the cover down. - -“Turn out the light, Bob,” she whispered. It was a ceremony now: -neither of them spoke out loud in the presence of the miracle taking -place. He turned out the light. The room was dark except for the -lighted dots of windows in the buildings opposite and, over the -buildings, like unorganized window lights, cold stars shone clearly. - -He turned and walked to the bed. Carla lay on her back, her arms -behind her head. He got in beside her and they lay there together, not -speaking, hardly breathing, and he felt the blood pounding in his head -while, next to him, Carla was shivering, was waiting. He turned over on -his side, barely touching her. - -They did not speak now. Words were discarded and no surface was needed. -Instinct guided them finally, made them a separate world together; -there was only a dream existence outside of themselves. - -And Robert Holton became the lover and ceased to be himself; his -detached awareness was, for the time, submerged and forgotten. - -He ran his hands over her, feeling the smooth skin of her shoulders, -her thighs.... They kissed and began the act of completion. - -To Holton it became a battle and a surrender, a taking and a giving; it -became a fusion. He was no longer himself, he was enlarged; a giant in -a world of giant sensations. He was no longer alone or incomplete. - -Then the rhythm was found and the wild twistings and strugglings -stopped. He was conquering now and, in the conquering, giving. - -He entered her and to the rhythm of their fast-beating hearts, with -a rush of sound like wind in his ears, he discovered the single -world. Lights whirled inside his head, behind his eyes: they came in -series--circles of sharp lights. - -He was choking then, barely breathing, able only to cough and gasp. -Sweat covered him; his hands clutched at her shoulders as though they -were the only remaining solidity in a world rapidly disintegrating into -sensations and fast-moving lights and a quick wind. - -There was no time now. There was no memory. There was no reason. The -struggle stopped and the moment came like fire. - -Carla’s face was buried in his shoulder; she stiffened and then became -relaxed, the battle finished and won. - -Like fire it came and the wonder was achieved; a world was glimpsed and -lost in a moment. Then, tide-like, the emotion stopped and withdrew. -The ecstasy was gone and only two people were left in its wake, left on -a high shore, exhausted, shipwrecked. - -Robert Holton lay for a moment upon Carla’s still body, supporting -himself with his elbows so that he would not crush her; he breathed -deeply, taking in the air with great sobs. Beneath him Carla was quiet, -at peace, her shuddering stopped. - -He kissed her very gently then and they separated, without words; they -lay quietly side by side, touching each other, yet apart, the trace -of their fire still inside of them, and exhaustion brought with it no -sadness, no loneliness. - -Robert Holton put his arm under her head; then he looked out the -window, looked at the real stars, not nearly as bright as the ones in -his head, the ones they had made together. - -Silence and darkness protected them. - -Part of his mind became detached again and he saw himself in relation -to the world. He saw himself in a darkened room of a large hotel, lying -exhausted beside the wife of a painter. He frowned in the dark and he -fought the vision of the outer world. - -Carla moved her hand over his chest, twisting the hairs; he felt a -spasm of tenderness shake him and he took her and held her close to -him. This was the moment when he felt he was not alone, felt that he -was not a single particle lost in a void. The half of him lost in the -womb had been regained and he was finally complete: he was God and -earth and other stars, so great was this fusion. - -They slept quietly in each others arms. They slept unaware of time for -they _were_ time. - -Carla woke first. She gave a start and Robert Holton opened his eyes, -wondered where he was; then he saw Carla beside him, saw a vague figure -by the light of stars. - -“_Caro mio_,” she murmured, saying the first words either had -spoken. - -“Darling,” he whispered. - -“It’s so perfect,” she said and he put her head on his shoulder again. -Then they were still, looking at the uncertain outline of their bodies -on the whiteness of the bed. - -He felt her smooth legs. They were cool, like dreams half-remembered. - -“I love you,” she whispered into his ear, “so much more than you know.” - -He kissed her for answer and his detached self almost fused with hers, -almost made a union, almost died and made him free. - -Carla turned on the light. It was two o’clock and they had been asleep -for almost an hour. - -Robert Holton lay quietly on the bed, his eyes closed, his breathing -regular, one arm over his forehead as though to defend himself. She -leaned over and kissed him lightly, then she got out of bed and went -into the bathroom. - -Her face shocked and pleased her. “How depraved I look,” she murmured -to herself. Her face was glowing and her eyes shone and glittered. -There were red marks on her white skin. His beard had scratched her and -made her usually white face pink. With a sudden gesture she swept her -hair back out of her face, held her dark curling hair captive. - -Holton appeared behind her then and he put his arms around her waist -and kissed the back of her neck. She shuddered and closed her eyes. She -could not look at light with so much inward light behind her eyes. They -stood like that. Then he let her go. They looked at each other: two -people now, so recently a single world. - -“Happy?” she asked. - -He nodded. “I’ve never had it like this before,” he said. “It never -meant as much to me as this.” - -They walked back into the bedroom and sat down side by side on the -bed. Modestly Holton drew the sheet over their laps. They sat quietly -without speaking, their bare arms around each other. When Carla looked -at the window she could no longer see stars and lighted windows; she -could see only their reflection on black glass. - -“What are you thinking?” he asked and she saw that he’d been watching -her. - -“Nothing, Bob. I don’t think all the time, you know. I was only -feeling.” - -“Feeling what?” - -She smiled. “Feeling all the world.” - -“I think I felt that, too ... to live in a big way....” - -“Yes, I know.” She sighed. “You have to break all your little patterns. -You have to expand now.” - -But there was resistance to this. “I don’t see why you can’t have -everything and still have that, too.” - -“No, everything must be the richest and the fullest. Have you that?” - -He stretched, the muscles moving under white skin. “Maybe it is; I -don’t know.” He took her then and they fell back together onto the bed. -For several minutes they were together and then he rolled over on his -side. She opened her eyes. - -“What’s the matter, Bob?” she asked. - -“I don’t know,” he said. He was looking at her, his dark hair in his -eyes. He pushed it back. - -“You’re not sad?” - -“No.” He ran his hands over her hips. “I was only wondering what’s to -happen next. You’ll go back to Europe.” - -She had been waiting for this. She had been waiting for him to ask -this. Now she could say what she felt but the words did not come -easily. “I don’t have to go back,” she said. “I can stay here as long -as I like.” - -“Then your husband’ll come over here.” - -“I can leave him.” - -He shook his head. “I couldn’t marry you.” - -She was lost. She was falling now. It seemed as if the room had become -cold and foreign and she had come to a hostile country. There was no -longer an answer to make: the answer had been made. She tried not to -let her face show what she felt. - -“Why couldn’t you marry me?” - -“I haven’t any money.” - -“I have.” - -“I wouldn’t want that. You wouldn’t want to be married to a broker and -live in New York.” - -“Why do you have to be a broker?” - -He sighed then and she saw for the first time that he was the one -trapped, the one who would not escape. “What else can I do?” he asked. - -“You can break with all this.” She was fighting. - -“But what could I do? I have to do something. I have to be something.” - -“Why do you have to be something? Why do you have to do things that you -don’t want, that make you unhappy?” - -“Everyone has to. Besides, I’m not sure that I am unhappy.” She was -defeated at that moment. The dream she had been fashioning disappeared -and there were no traces of it left, only a lingering sadness and an -open wound. - -He went on talking and she answered him but there was nothing left for -either of them to discuss. - -Then after a while they both stopped talking. They sat side by side -looking out the window, or rather looking at themselves reflected in -the black mirror. Holton turned out the light and Carla was able to see -the stars again. - -“That was funny, wasn’t it?” chuckled Holton. - -“What? What was funny?” - -“Lewis tonight and all those people talking about religion and art.” - -“I don’t think it was funny; I think it was sad.” - -“Why sad?” - -“They were lost, I think. Just like us, Bob.” - -She could feel him looking at her. “Are you?” he asked softly. - -She would not let herself cry. She would not give way. She would have -to be strong now. Her voice carefully controlled, she said, “No more -than you. We could be complete, I think.” - -“I think we could,” he said and she knew that he felt nothing the -way she did. Carla had the feeling of coming into a stranger’s house -expecting friends, expecting familiar things. She was with an unknown, -a man who did not feel what she did. - -“I had hoped,” said Carla, “that we could.” She was going to be -accurate in what she said. She used each word like the cut of a knife -to sever the relationship, to kill her own love. “I don’t think we can -now. You want to live a certain life. You want what you know and though -you don’t like it you think it’s the safe thing. I don’t understand -you, I’m afraid. I’ve tried to see all this through your eyes. I -didn’t want it to be just another one, another woman. I wanted it to -be important to you: it was so important to me. I think I was wrong. I -think I was selfish and I’m sorry.” She wondered when her voice would -break. - -Then Holton tried to reconstruct at last. “No, you don’t understand. -I feel very close to you. I’ve liked this more than any other time, -more than with anyone else. But you see I can’t leave what I’m doing; I -couldn’t live on you for the rest of my life.” - -She sighed. “That’s such a superficial thing; that’s all the surface. -When you feel something for another person those things don’t matter.” - -“Someday they might. Of course I’m lonely and not very happy. You have -to accept that. In a few years I’ll get married and maybe that’ll make -it better. I could,” he was speaking slowly now, “marry you. I could do -that but you wouldn’t be happy.” - -“How do you know I wouldn’t be happy here?” - -“You’re different, that’s all. I can’t tell you what the difference is. -I don’t know.” - -And she couldn’t tell him what the difference was. There was no way to -tell. - -He put his arms around her in the dark and they relaxed on the bed and -she tried to give herself to the moment but she could not: too much had -been given already. - -“It’s a temptation,” said Holton suddenly. - -“What is?” They separated. - -“To go to Europe with you, to live with you.” - -“It could be done.” - -“Maybe.... No, it wouldn’t work.” - -“Why?” - -“It just wouldn’t be practical.” - -No, she thought, it wouldn’t be practical. - -Then the passion came back to them and she almost forgot his -withdrawal. She fell back onto the pillows, his body over hers. - -He whispered in her ear, “You know I really have to leave after this.” - -“Of course you must,” said Carla, dying gently. - - - - -3 - -THE YELLOW WOOD - - - - - _Chapter Thirteen_ - - -The early morning was cold and Robert Holton shivered as he left the -warm lobby of the hotel. He stood outside on the sidewalk and wondered -where he was. He turned to the left and walked a few steps and then he -remembered the street he was on, remembered where east and west were. -He turned to the right and walked rapidly toward Fifth Avenue. - -The streets were almost deserted. Occasionally a taxicab would clatter -by. Occasionally a tired couple looking for a room would pass him on -the sidewalk. As he walked, his own footsteps made sharp regular noises -on the pavement. - -He came at last to a subway entrance. He breathed deeply, took a last -breath of clean air and went down inside the ground. - -Pale lights burned in old sockets and a sleepy Negro sat within the -money-changer’s booth. A sailor stood vomiting in a corner; he was very -quiet about it and the Negro paid no attention to him. - -Robert Holton put his nickel in the turnstile. - -On the platform several people were waiting for the train. They were -all tired. Another sailor had a girl and he was standing very close to -her. They were both drunk and made strange little movements with their -heads and hands, slow-motion movements, as though they were flying. - -Robert Holton stood against an iron pillar. He felt exhausted but -physically serene. He rested his head on the hard rough surface. It was -pleasant to stand like this, underground. - -The uptown train stopped with a jolt, the doors opened and Robert -Holton stepped into the lighted train. The doors closed and the train -started again. - -Everyone in the car was weary or drunk or both. Papers and cigarette -butts covered the floor. A pair of dirty gloves lay at his feet, -forgotten by the owner, unwanted. - -Robert Holton tried to sleep but the glare of light through his eyelids -was distracting. His physical exhaustion was lessening, too, and he -began to feel a return of energy. - -He would not think of Carla, though; he would not think of her for a -little while. He would wait until he was in his room. - -After a long time, after ten minutes, the train stopped at his station -and he climbed out of the ground and stood on the concrete surface of -the earth; a suggestion of morning was in the sky and the wind blew -fresh and cold from the river. He walked to his hotel. - -“Evening,” said the clerk behind the desk. - -“Good evening,” said Holton. - -“Is it getting colder out?” - -Holton nodded. “Probably be a real cold day tomorrow.” He walked over -to the counter. “Have I got any mail?” - -“Let’s see ... that’s...?” - -“Holton.” - -The clerk looked, then shook his head. “No mail, Mr Holton.” He paused. -“You was in the army?” - -“Yes, I was in the army.” - -“So was I.” The clerk was lonely and wanted to talk and Holton was -still tired and nervous and wanted to think. “It sure is nice being -out,” said the clerk. - -“Yes, it’s good to be out.” - -“I was with the 82nd; you remember the 82nd, don’t you?” - -“Of course I do.” - -“We had a good group of guys.” - -“I know you did.” - -“Nothing like being a civilian, is there?” - -“No,” said Robert Holton, “there’s nothing like being out. Good night.” - -“Good night.” The clerk who had been with the army was sad to see him -go. - -He turned the light on in his room. It was all just the same, the -troubling painting and the crowded dresser. Sometimes he would come -into his room and have a feeling that everything would be changed when -he turned on the light, that something exciting would have happened to -change his room. It was always the same, though; always the way he left -it. - -Holton went into the bathroom. He should take a bath; he wanted to take -a bath but he was too tired. In the morning; there would be time for -that in the morning. - -He undressed and put on the bottom of his pajamas; he never used the -tops. Then he looked at himself in the mirror for a long time. He did -not see himself in the mirror; he saw no image; rather he was trying to -find an image, an explanation in the glass. But he found nothing and -as he realized his failure the reflection of his face appeared in the -mirror and he looked at it without interest because it was familiar and -because he could see nothing behind it. - -He turned and went into his room. He sat down on the bed and wondered -whether he could sleep or not because his mind was uneasy. Holton -turned out the lights and stretched out on his bed. He would make -himself sleep; he would not think of Carla or of the day ended. - -But his mind was too active now for him to sleep. He tried to hypnotize -himself, tried not to hear the odd words and conversations in his ears. - -He gave up finally. The barriers went down. - -George _Robert_ Lewis’s voice sounded in his head and the clashing -colors of the fairy night club glittered in his head. Lewis’s voice, -flat and nasal, became articulate. - -“I do feel that religion is merely a substitute for the loss of a -personal vision.” His sharp little laugh sounded and the words repeated -themselves over and over again in Robert Holton’s ear: loss of a -personal vision ... a vision ... and elision.... The words became a -refrain. The repetitions went on until Holton felt himself losing -control. He was angry. He made the repetitions stop. - -George _Robert_ Lewis began to talk again. - -“I feel that we can find some way through the morass of life, some way -to be serene and not sterile, not static. I think probably art is the -way for the sensitive. If one has talent one can practise a medium; -without talent one can appreciate. - -“Love? What _does_ that word mean, darling? I’ve tried so awfully -hard to be sincere about it and I’ve had some delicious attempts at -it. Did you ever know Philip?... No, of course you wouldn’t have known. -But as I was saying ... what was I saying?” - -Holton tried consciously to recall what Lewis had said. But when he -tried to hear speeches again he could not. Lewis’s voice began again, a -disembodied voice speaking among colors in a place where all emotions -were in a minor key. - -“I think one must really barricade oneself against the world. One -must retreat. Now don’t tell me it’s cowardly to retreat. Nothing in -this world should be put on such a superficial basis as that. We are -talking on different planes. That’s why communication is so difficult. -Every argument is true and false and can be argued rightly from either -side. To have any agreement those discussing should decide right away -on what plane they want to talk. On a superficial and obvious one -the terms bravery and cowardice and right and wrong have a certain -meaning. On a deeper plane they have different, sometimes opposite, -meanings--sometimes no meaning at all. - -“Well, to get back to my point, on the _deepest_ level of -understanding only instinct and what is natural counts. If one can’t -arrive at love (and so many of us, darling, haven’t the capacity for -it) then one must make a substitute, something to take up the sixty or -seventy years one is alive. That’s where art is important. I understand -business men feel the same way about business, though I’m not at all -sure about that. - -“And then as for all this driveling about going to Rome let me say I do -feel that religion is merely a substitute for the loss of a personal -vision....” - -The sound of Lewis’s voice became louder and continued until finally -the voice became so loud that it ceased to be a voice and became -silence. - -Robert Holton wanted to sleep but there were so many things that had to -be arranged first. - -There was also the dream of the night before to be recalled. He would -think of that later. - -He remembered Jim Trebling. He thought of the days on the boat when -they had talked about the future. - -Against a background of sea he could recall the image of Trebling. -Details were absent and he could not make out the face but he could -hear the voice and he could see the ocean. - -“I hate the idea of being tied down any more than I have to be. You -know, Bob, we’ve lived the most unnatural life there is during this -war. I get the feeling sometimes that we’ve lost a lot of time. I keep -wanting to start over again. - -“I might want to start my own business. I think that’s not so bad: it’s -worse working for somebody else. It’s funny but I’d just as soon never -work. I’d just as soon drift the rest of my life.” - -And Robert Holton had agreed. He agreed in those days. - -“Of course you have to have money to loaf. Maybe if we hadn’t been -raised in such a sound middle-class way we could be bums but we’re too -used to being comfortable. No, we’re too used to being comfortable. -We’ve got to get the money first.” - -Robert Holton had agreed to that, too. He had agreed to everything. -He wanted to be as free as possible. At least he thought he had then. -Because his friend wanted it he felt he did too. He assumed a similar -identity. - -Trebling had more to say and his deep laughing voice continued: “No, -we’re going to have to work a little. Not much, just a little to get -enough ahead. We’re going to be careful though not to get bogged down, -not to get too interested in working. It’s dangerous to get to like it.” - -Holton agreed. - -“Well, Bob, get your mind on the ball. How’re we going to spend that -army money? I think pottery out in California sounds easy.” - -Yes, pottery was easy. Then they separated and they changed. Or perhaps -only he, Holton, had changed. He’d done the easiest thing, he thought. -But it was true that he was entangled now for the rest of his life with -Heywood and Golden; with them or another like them. - -Trebling was entangled, too. Holton was pleased by that as he lay -in the dark. Trebling hadn’t done better. He belonged to the army -now and his chances of beginning a business were slight. He might -try it though; he might be able to live the way he wanted to. Holton -shuddered. It would be awful to miss freedom so narrowly. - -There was a problem, still unsolved: what did he want? - -“You know,” said Trebling’s voice, rising up out of the sea, “you know -you make things tough for yourself. You don’t make up your mind.” - -That wasn’t true, he was always plotting; most of the time, anyway. - -“You try to be like everybody else.” - -He was safest when he was like the rest of them. No, that wasn’t a bad -thing to do; besides, he wasn’t that way really. He was different from -the others in the office. They sensed that. He would probably go a -long way and most of them wouldn’t. Perhaps he was like Heywood. That -wasn’t bad. Heywood was a success. _He_ could be free if he liked. -He had money and he could do whatever he liked. - -Trebling’s voice was fainter now and the sound of the sea behind it was -becoming loud. “Sure we might flop but if we don’t we’re just fine. -I’m not worried; I’m not worried about anything except being stuck in -an office and working for somebody. That’s a lot to worry about, I -suppose, but I’m not bothered. It’s going to work out. You’re a long -time dead, I figure ...” - -The sea came into Holton’s room then and he was whirled on the top of a -wave; for a moment there was nothing but sensation. He opened his eyes -in the dark and the sea was gone. - -Trebling’s voice was lost. - -Holton turned over on his side, troubled, tired, looking for sleep. He -thought of Carla. He had to think of her; there was a decision to be -made. - -She had been quiet when he left her in the apartment. She had not -looked him in the eyes and he had been eager to leave, to escape. - -Now she began to speak again. She had talked to him as he was dressing. - -“I don’t think it would work now. I’d hoped it would; for a long time -I’ve thought about you, about our living together. But you don’t want -to.” - -He had tried to deny this but he could not deny what he felt. - -Her voice came back to him now, a sad thin echo; there was no vibrancy -in the remembered voice. She was whispering in an empty room. - -“You’re going to accept a pattern and I can’t stop you. I can’t bring -out the capacity for love in you. You have it, I know, but I’m not -enough to make you aware....” - -Again the denial and again the sad voice whispering. - -“No, I was wrong to try to change your life. It’s very selfish to do -things for people they don’t want done. I wanted you so much. You’re -the one I’m not supposed to have, though, and that’s sad for me.” - -He had talked to her then and explained that he could not take the -risk of living with her, that he must be within the pattern. But he -could not make any of these things sound convincing. Somehow everything -got confused as he tried to explain himself to her. He tried to tell -her that he did love her but that he couldn’t live with her. She had -listened and when he had finished she had talked again. Now her voice -entered his room; it was a shadow’s voice murmuring in his ear. - -“I don’t think I’d better see you again, Bob. It’s very hard for me but -I’m going to control myself. I am going to forget all the things I had -dreamed about since Florence. I shall find a new object and that’s a -hard thing to do. It’s hard to change but I will.” - -That was true, of course. There was also more. - -She walked with him to the door; she let him go free to his chosen -prison. - -The little voice no longer whispered in his ear and there was nothing -but silence and the beating of his heart, the slow beating of his heart. - -The shade of the window fluttered in the outside wind. Bits of light -gleamed around the shade as it fluttered. Lights from signs and behind -those lights, gray and massive, was the light of early morning. The -room grew colder. - -He got under the blanket and he closed his eyes tight and thought of -nothing: thought of shapes and shadows and lights and colors and all -the things that comprise nothing: he could not sleep. - -Robert Holton made a case for himself as he lay in the occasionally -broken dark. - -He had no gift. He was an average person. Perhaps not quite average, -he had had many advantages. He was among the many, though. He could -not make a world separate. He wished now that he had told Carla that: -he could not make a world separate. He belonged to the world of all -people and it was wrong to retreat from that world. He felt noble as he -thought of this: it was an excellent argument and he wished that he had -used it. - -To have gone to live with Carla would have been a retreat from all -that was right. Right? What had Lewis said about the planes of -understanding? It didn’t matter because Lewis was just another little -fairy. He was perverted in everything. No, it was right not to live -with Carla. He had to do what was expected of him. - -Robert Holton built himself an argument, and as he built his barricades -stronger he was aware of discontent, well-hidden beyond the barricade -but still alive. Duty was important and difficult. Nothing that was -right was easy. Was that true? He was becoming confused. - -He had worn too many faces. He thought of the myriad faces he had been -made to wear. He had been different with every person he’d ever known. -This lack of consistency bothered him. In the army he had been without -care, without ambition; he had been like Trebling. - -With the people in the office he had been cold or warm, as they were. -He had given them what they expected. He had been an actor with too -many rôles to play. Tonight he had played all of them for Carla and -then he had become lost and he had tried to be himself and he found -that he was not enough. - -Every person saw him differently, not entirely because every person was -different, but because he had also intended it to be that way. Now he -did not know himself. He had no way of knowing the person behind the -myriad faces. - -For a moment he felt himself sinking. It was like a dream of falling. -He seemed to be descending into a pit without bottom. There was no -longer a Robert Holton: only a series of masks, cracked now and no -longer usable, no longer convincing. He could never use one again. - -He stopped falling; by an effort of will he stopped himself. Carla was -gone and he was sorry. There was no one else and loneliness now crept -out of the silence. He would have to build the barricades stronger and -higher. He would shut loneliness out. - -The masks were no longer good. Carla had helped him break them. This -was to be a beginning then. He would assume an identity. He would -become a decided person and he would cease to be changed by others. - -Robert Holton would become a successful broker working in an office. - -The decision was made and he felt secure at last. The words and -thoughts that had been in his mind, troubling him, stopped abruptly. He -had a magic of his own and he had used it and it worked. Now he was -free. There would be no more talk of going away to Florence and living -with a pretty woman who loved him and wanted him to be different. He -was resolved at last. It was as simple as that. With great effort he -assumed an identity and freed himself from doubt. - -He stopped twisting. The fever was leaving and he was tired. - -Robert Holton turned over on his stomach and took a deep breath. Soon -he would be asleep. All his questions were solved--except one. There -was still something to be taken care of, something not very important, -but bothersome. He frowned with his eyes shut. Then he opened them and -he looked across the room at the dark outline of the picture frame. - -The dream. - -He hadn’t been able to remember the dream of the night before: the -troubling, unpleasant dream. It had great significance, he knew. - -His only half-conscious mind tried to remember. He kept it purposefully -unawake because in this state, between sensation and memory, most -dreams could be recalled. - -For a long time he wondered. But he could not remember, and he went to -sleep finally, exhausted, and in his mind was hidden the dream of the -night before, the secret dream, the dream of death, of living. He had -almost remembered. - - - - - _Chapter Fourteen_ - - -The next day was cold, colder than the early morning had been. - -Robert Holton took a bath, dressed, and went down in the elevator. He -said good morning to the man at the desk who gave him a letter from -his father. Then he went outside; shivering, he walked to the subway -station. Without buying a paper he went down into the ground and at -Wall Street he came to the surface again. - - * * * * * - -Marjorie Ventusa was glad to see him. The movie she had seen the night -before had been a successful tragedy and she had wept and had been able -to think about herself less tragically afterward. - -She watched him as he came into the restaurant. He went to his usual -table and sat down. After he was seated she picked up a tray and walked -over to him. - -“Good morning, Mr Holton,” she said, and smiled. - -“Hello, Marjorie. How’s everything going?” - -“Fine, just fine. Weather’s getting cold, though.” She noticed that he -had dark circles under his eyes. She tried not to think of what he -might have been doing with the dark-haired girl. - -“Got anything good for breakfast? I feel pretty worn out today.” - -“I guess you were out late last night.” - -He nodded. She couldn’t stop asking now; she couldn’t stop thinking -about Robert Holton and the dark-haired girl. - -“Probably one of those big parties, I guess.” - -He nodded and said, “Sure, one of those big parties.” - -She was not sorry that he lied. “We got some good sausage today,” she -said. - -“I’ll take whatever you got ... and black coffee.” - -“Sure, I’ll go get it.” She walked back to the kitchen. She frowned -when she saw Mrs Merrin looking at her. She had to look serious even -though she was happy. He had at least not wanted to tell her that he -was out with another girl. She had made so many images of Holton and -herself that she accepted an imagined closeness as real. He had not -really been unfaithful this time. - -She called out his order to the cook and then she fixed her snood in -the steamy mirror. She had bought a dark snood and she noticed now that -it made her hair look darker, look rather mysterious. It felt good to -look mysterious. - -His breakfast was ready and she took it out to him. - -She made herself busy at the next table and she talked to him as she -worked. - -“You like going out to them big parties?” - -“Not so much.” - -“Why do you go?” - -“Business, I guess. It’s good to see all the big shots.” - -“You’re right there; you’re sure right there.” - -“What’s that you got on your head?” - -She giggled self-consciously and wished that she didn’t get so silly -when she was pleased. “Just a snood. I’ve had it such a long time.” -This was not true. - -“Looks nice,” said Holton seriously, biting into a piece of bread. - -“Thank you; I like it.” No, that was wrong, it sounded defiant and she -didn’t mean that. She added in a much softer voice, “I’m glad you like -it.” - -He ate then and she put dirty dishes on her tray. Then he said, -“When’re you going to Italy with me?” - -She laughed. “I got some previous engagements before. Any other time, -though.” - -“I’m told it’s nice there,” said Holton and she noticed that he looked -sad and she was happy to think that he was a little concerned about -her, that he was almost serious when he talked about Italy. - -“Maybe we’ll go some other time,” she said. - -“Sure,” said Holton, “maybe we’ll go some other time.” He drank his -coffee. He looked at his watch. “Lord, I’m late,” he said. He paid her -quickly. “See you at lunch.” - -“See you at lunch, Mr Holton.” She watched him go out the door and into -the crowded street. - -She cleared his table. Then she went gaily back to the kitchen, her -hair bobbing mysteriously in its snood. She was glad she hadn’t told -him she’d seen him in Times Square. - - * * * * * - -“Late, aren’t you?” asked Caroline when Holton came into the office. -She knew he was late but she was in a mood of violent humor; she was -always this way when she was happy and she was happy today because of -Trebling. - -“Not very,” said Holton and he went to his desk. Mr Murphy hadn’t come -in yet and he was safe. Caroline sat for a moment enjoying the pale -white sunlight that shone across her desk. Then she got up and came -over to Holton’s desk. - -She was awkward now. She wanted to find out things but she didn’t want -to be subtle. She tried anyway. “I was out with Jim last night,” she -began. - -“How do you like him?” Holton wasn’t paying much attention to her and -this was irritating. He was busy putting books on his desk. She looked -around to see if anyone was watching. Kuppelton was out of the room and -no one else appeared interested. She sat down on his desk. - -“I like him quite a bit,” she said. - -He looked at her. “Good,” he said. “Jim’s a fine fellow. You’ll have -fun playing around with him.” - -“I suppose I will.” - -“Just don’t take him too seriously, though. He’s sort of an expert with -girls.” How shallow Holton was, thought Caroline. “Just play with him -and you’ll be all right. A lot of girls’ve liked him.” - -“I can understand that. He’s really serious about starting something -himself. At least he doesn’t want to work for somebody like everybody -else wants.” She wanted this to be sharp; she didn’t care if it hurt or -not. - -“That’s a good thing to want,” said Holton. How dull he is, thought -Caroline, comparing him unfavorably with Jim Trebling. - -There was nothing she wanted to know from Holton. “How was your society -party?” she asked. - -“It was O.K.,” said Holton. “It was interesting.” - -I’ll bet, thought Caroline. She was impatient of others now that she -knew she was appreciated, knew that she was to see Trebling that night. -“Well, don’t work too hard,” said Caroline, getting up from the desk. -“By the way, I’m going out with Jim tonight.” - -“Better be careful,” said Holton seriously. - -She laughed. “I’m always careful; didn’t you know that?” - - * * * * * - -Heywood was feeling well. He had managed to get home early the night -before. That was one advantage in going to the theater alone: you -didn’t have to go some place afterward and get drunk. - -He sat contentedly in the mahogany twilight of his large office, -looking at a photograph of himself. There was no particular work to be -done. Golden hadn’t bothered him yet and it would be almost an hour -before he had his first conference. - -A buzz came out of the box on his desk. He pressed a button. - -“Mr Murphy to see you,” said his secretary, concealed in the box. - -“Send him in.” There was something he had to tell Murphy. Something to -do with the party. The young man, Robert Holton: he was to do something -for him. - -“Good morning, Murphy.” Mr Heywood did not bother to rise. - -“Morning, Mr Heywood,” said Murphy and Heywood wished his voice wasn’t -so loud. It jarred the twilight mood of the office. - -“I’ve got some statistics here, the ones on Steel stocks; the ones -showing fluctuation and ...” - -“Ah, yes, Murphy, that’s very good of you to have them for me so -promptly. I have another matter to discuss....” Heywood paused to make -sure that Murphy was listening to him carefully. “This boy, Holton,” -he went on, “I think he might do better dealing with the public, don’t -you?” - -“Yes,” said Murphy judiciously, “yes, I think that might be a good -place for him. You saw him last night?” - -“What? Oh, yes, I saw him last night. I had a pleasant talk with him. -He’s a clever young man, I think.” - -“Yes, he’s got a good head on his shoulders,” agreed Murphy. - -“You will tell him, won’t you, about his promotion and, ah, transfer?” - -“Certainly. He’ll be glad to hear this. I’ll be glad to tell him. And, -by the way, there’s another matter in my section....” - -“And what is that?” asked Heywood gently, trying not to yawn. - -“Well, we’ve a man named Kuppelton who’s always done a good job and I -think he should get the usual promotion in that department. The one we -had in mind for Holton.” - -Heywood sighed. “Certainly, Murphy; I rely, as always, on your -recommendation in these cases.” - -“Thank you....” They talked then of nothing that interested Mr Heywood. -Finally Murphy left. - -Mr Heywood yawned and stretched. He was rested and almost happy. He -would make good decisions today. He sat back in his chair and looked at -the photograph of himself. He would divorce his wife and go to South -America for a year. Or perhaps he wouldn’t divorce his wife but take -her to South America instead. It was strange but he looked younger now -than he did when the photograph was taken several years before. - - * * * * * - -When Kuppelton heard the news his first impulse was to call his mother -immediately on the phone and tell her all about it. He decided not to, -though, because, after all, it wasn’t completely official. He did talk -to Holton about it. - -“Congratulations,” he said as he came over to Holton’s desk. Mr Murphy -had already gone to lunch and it was safe to talk. - -“Thanks,” said Holton, smiling. He didn’t seem as happy as Kuppelton -expected him to be. - -“Caroline just told me that Mr Murphy told you you were going to be -a customers’ man and I’m certainly glad to see you’re getting ahead. -I always thought that this job would be too small to hold you.” He -paused. “When do you think you’ll move out?” he asked, looking away. - -“The first of next week probably.” Holton chuckled. “I guess you’ll be -sorry to see me leave.” - -Kuppelton recognized the sarcasm but he didn’t care. “Sure I’m sorry. -Of course, it’s good news, in a way, for me.” - -“It is at that.” - -“You sure got a good deal. Well, you can’t beat City Hall I always say.” - -“You always say that?” - -“What? Well, no, but.... What I meant was....” - -Robert Holton only laughed. - -Kuppelton tried to talk some more with him but it was very difficult; -they never had liked each other, anyway. Kuppelton left him to go to -lunch. - -He was jubilant but dignified as he put on his coat and hat and walked -down the corridor. He would have a lot of news to tell his mother -tonight. Everything had worked out nicely and soon he would be making -more money and everyone he knew was happy. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN A YELLOW WOOD *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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