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diff --git a/old/66940-h/66940-h.htm b/old/66940-h/66940-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index f070203..0000000 --- a/old/66940-h/66940-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9216 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - In a Yellow Wood, by Gore Vidal—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; font-weight: normal; margin-top: 4em; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -.p1 {margin-top: 1em;} -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} -.p66 {margin-top: 6em; margin-bottom: 6em; } -.p6 {margin-top: 6em; } -.p6b {margin-bottom: 6em; } - -.indent10 {margin-left: 10%; } - -.half-title -{ - margin-top: 6em; - text-align: center; - font-size: 140%; - margin-bottom: 6em; -} - -.small1 {font-size: 90%; } -.big2 {font-size: 130%; } -.big3 {font-size: 140%; } - - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -@media print { hr.tb {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - - - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - - - -table.autotable { - margin-left: 25%; - margin-right: 25%; - width: 50%; -} - -table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } -table.autotable td, -table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } - -.tdl {text-align: left;} -.tdr {text-align: right;} -.tdc {text-align: center;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - visibility: hidden; - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; -} /* page numbers */ - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - - -.box { - width: 40%; - margin-right: 30%; - margin-left: 30%; - margin-bottom: 12em; - margin-top: 1em; - } - -.box2 { - width: 30%; - margin-right: 30%; - margin-left: 40%; - margin-bottom: 12em; - margin-top: 1em; - } - -.box3 { - width: 40%; - margin-right: 20%; - margin-left: 40%; - margin-bottom: 12em; - margin-top: 1em; - } - -/* Images */ - -img { - max-width: 100%; - height: auto; -} -img.w100 {width: 100%;} - - -.figcenter { - margin-bottom: auto; - margin-right: auto; - margin-left: auto; - margin-top: 6em; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - - - -/* Transcriber's notes */ - .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%;padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; - padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 4em; } - -/* Illustration classes */ -.illowp100 {width: 100%;} -.illowp52 {width: 52%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp52 {width: 100%;} -.illowp73 {width: 73%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp73 {width: 100%;} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of In a Yellow Wood, by Gore Vidal</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: In a Yellow Wood</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Gore Vidal</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 13, 2021 [eBook #66940]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>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.)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN A YELLOW WOOD ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter illowp52" id="cover" style="max-width: 66.1875em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" /> -</div> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="tnote"> - - <p class="center p4 big2">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES</p> - -<p>In the plain text version words in Italics are denoted by _underscores_.</p> - -<p>The book cover was modified by the transcriber and has been added to -the public domain.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Obvious punctuation and other printing errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>The Table of Contents was added by the transcriber.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="half-title">IN A YELLOW WOOD</p> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="box2 big2"> -<p><span class="smcap">Novels by</span> <em>Gore Vidal</em></p> - - - -<p class="p4" style="padding-left: 1em;">IN A YELLOW WOOD</p> -<p style="padding-left: 1em;">WILLIWAW</p> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1>IN A YELLOW WOOD</h1> - -</div> - -<p class="p4 center"><big>By</big></p> - -<p class="center big3 p6b">GORE VIDAL</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="title_p_ilo" style="max-width: 36.875em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/title_p_ilo.jpg" alt="ilotp" /> -</div> - -<p class="center p2">1947<br /> - -<big>E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY, INC.</big><br /> - -NEW YORK</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center p2"><em>Copyright, 1947, by E. P. Dutton & Co., Inc.</em><br /> -<em>All rights reserved. Printed in the U.S.A.</em></p> - </div> - -<div class="figcenter illowp73" id="verso_ilo" style="max-width: 3em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/verso_ilo.jpg" alt="versoilo" /> -</div> - -<p class="center p1"><small>FIRST EDITION</small></p> - -<div class="box"> -<p><span class="smcap">No Part</span> <em>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.</em></p> -</div> - -<p class="center small1"><em>American Book-Stratford Press, Inc., New York</em></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</span></p> -<p class="center p66"><em>For Anais Nin</em></p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center p66"><em>All of the characters, all of the events and -most of the places in this book are fictitious.</em></p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</span></p> -</div> - -<p class="p4 center big2">CONTENT</p> - -<table class="autotable" summary="cont"> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"> </td> -<td class="tdr">Pg.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl">1 <small>DAY</small></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_7">7</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter One</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_9">9</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter Two</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_18">18</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter Three</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_31">31</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter Four</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_46">46</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter Five</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_59">59</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter Six</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_73">73</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter Seven</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_86">86</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter Eight</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_103">103</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl">2 <small>NIGHT</small></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_113">113</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter Nine</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_115">115</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter Ten</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_143">143</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter Eleven</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_166">166</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter Twelve</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_180">180</a> </td> -</tr> - - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl">3 <small>THE YELLOW WOOD</small></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_195">195</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter Thirteen</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_197">197</a> </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter Fourteen</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_209">209</a> </td> -</tr> -</table> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span></p> -</div> - -<p class="half-title">1<br /> -DAY</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="box3"> -<p class="p6 indent10"><em>Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,<br /> -And sorry I could not travel both<br /> -And be one traveller.</em>...</p> - -<p class="right" style="padding-right: 3em; ">—<span class="smcap">Frost</span></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="p6 small1">From <em>Collected Poems</em> by Robert Frost. Copyright, 1930, 1939, by Henry Holt and -Company, Inc. Copyright, 1936, by Robert Frost.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><em>Chapter One</em></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="p2">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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> -or later and the thought made him sad. There was nothing -he could do, of course, for he would always sit at desks.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He went to the closet and took out his trench coat. He -had bought it when he became a lieutenant three years -before.</p> - -<p>It was almost eight o’clock now. Robert Holton opened -the door of his room and stepped out into the corridor.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>There was a clatter as the elevator went past his floor. -That always happened. He pushed the button angrily.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>There was a loud rattling and the elevator stopped at his -floor. The door opened and Robert Holton stepped into the -elevator.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, Mr Holton,” said the elevator boy, a -young man in his middle teens.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, Joe. What kind of a day is it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p> - -<p>“Wonderful out. Real warm for this time of year. Real -Indian summer outside. Real nice weather.”</p> - -<p>“That’s fine,” said Robert Holton, glad to hear that the -weather was good.</p> - -<p>“Any news on the market?” asked Joe, stopping at the -seventh floor.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I guess there’s nothing for me to put my money in, I -guess,” said Joe.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Well, here we are,” said Joe, opening the door. “We made -it all right this time.”</p> - -<p>“We certainly did.” Robert Holton followed the two older -men out of the elevator and into the lobby.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She nodded to Robert Holton and he nodded to her. They -never spoke. He picked up a newspaper from the desk,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He sat next to a stout man who lived in his hotel. Occasionally -they would speak.</p> - -<p>“How’s the market?” asked the fat man, deciding not to -read his paper.</p> - -<p>“The market’s doing fine, should go up.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“You was in the army, weren’t you?” asked the stout man -suddenly.</p> - -<p>Robert Holton nodded.</p> - -<p>“Been out long?”</p> - -<p>“Over a year.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Everyone is,” said Robert Holton and he thought of the -things that he had done in London. He had liked London.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span></p> - -<p>“You went to college, didn’t you?” asked the stout man; -he was trying to clear up something in his mind.</p> - -<p>“That’s right.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I’m in the grocery business,” said the stout man.</p> - -<p>“I know,” said Robert Holton, “we’ve talked about that -before.”</p> - -<p>“I started right in at the bottom,” said the stout man.</p> - -<p>“That’s the best place to start,” said Robert Holton, feeling -that there was no answer to this. He was wrong.</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t know. It’s hard to say. How <em>did</em> you like the -army?”</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t bad.”</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t good neither. I never got overseas last time, I -mean time before last, but we had it rough in training.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>A woman with a small child sat across from him, directly -under the bread advertisement. The woman was heavy with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The train stopped at a station and the stout man left. Two -more stops and Robert Holton would get off.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The train made its two stops and the girls got off. No one -sat opposite him now. He studied the advertisements.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><em>Chapter Two</em></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="p2">“Hurry up, Marjorie. Let’s get those tables cleaned up.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> -and she didn’t mind noisy people and the clattering of dishes.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“How much extra is a large orange juice?” asked one.</p> - -<p>“It’s ten cents more if you take it with the breakfast.”</p> - -<p>“All right, I’ll take a double orange juice, some toast and -coffee. Do you have any marmalade?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p> - -<p>“Well, bring some of that, too.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, Mr Holton,” she said, putting a glass of -water and some silverware on his table.</p> - -<p>“How’re you today, Marjorie? You look perfect.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“What you going to have this morning?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I guess I’ll have some orange juice and scrambled eggs -and bacon.”</p> - -<p>“Is that all you going to eat? Why, how you ever going to -get big and strong?”</p> - -<p>He laughed. “Not sitting at a desk and eating your cooking.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span></p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,” said Marjorie, “would you like something -else?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He was reading his paper when she came back. He didn’t -look up as she arranged the dishes on his table.</p> - -<p>“Well, here’s your breakfast,” she said. “You better eat it -while it’s hot.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, sure.” Robert Holton folded his paper and laid it on -the table. She watched him as he drank the orange juice.</p> - -<p>“Sour, isn’t it?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“A little bit, maybe.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“Well, just relax. I like the food and the service.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” she said, trying to sound elegant and funny -at the same time.</p> - -<p>“When you going to go out dancing with me?” Robert<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> -Holton asked, sawing a piece of bacon in half with a blunt -knife.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I can wait,” he said, smiling at her; smiling the way he -would to a child, she thought suddenly. She watched him -eat.</p> - -<p>“Marjorie,” said a voice behind her.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mrs Merrin, I’m coming. I’ll be right with you. I was -just cleaning this table.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, Mrs Merrin. I was just cleaning the table.” -Mrs Merrin smiled warmly at Robert Holton and walked -away.</p> - -<p>“She’s an awful bitch,” said Marjorie Ventusa.</p> - -<p>“What did she say?” asked Robert Holton. “I didn’t hear -her.”</p> - -<p>“She was just running off at the mouth, that’s all. She -thought I was talking too much to you.”</p> - -<p>One of her tables called for a check and she walked over -quickly and put their used plates on her tray. Then she went<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> -back to the kitchen. More orders were ready for her. She -loaded her tray and went back to work.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She stopped in front of the mirror behind the swinging -doors. Mrs Merrin always said that neatness was an important -thing.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Finally her last customer was satisfied for the moment. -She wandered casually over to Robert Holton’s table.</p> - -<p>“Breakfast good?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Never better.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“What’s in the paper?” she asked. She never quite knew -what to talk about when she was with him.</p> - -<p>“Not much. The same old stuff. Election stuff mostly.”</p> - -<p>“Seems like there’s always an election.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span></p> - -<p>“There’re a lot of them.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I have to. I read all about the market.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right, you’re in Wall Street. That must be exciting. -Working there where all those big deals are made.”</p> - -<p>“They don’t make them where I am.” He laughed. “I’m -just another worker.”</p> - -<p>“I thought you were way up in one of the big houses.”</p> - -<p>“Well, sort of a clerk which doesn’t pay much. It’s a good -way to starve.”</p> - -<p>“You ought to do something different. Suppose you marry -some girl....”</p> - -<p>“I’m not getting married for a long time.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose,” said Marjorie Ventusa calmly, “that you got -some nice society girl all lined up.”</p> - -<p>Robert Holton shook his head. “I haven’t any girl anywhere.”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t that like life. All the handsome men don’t have girls -and they wonder why so many of us are old maids.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Ventusa.” She spelled it for him.</p> - -<p>“Italian name?”</p> - -<p>“My father was Italian, my mother was Irish.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a good combination. I knew a lot of pretty girls -when I was in Italy.”</p> - -<p>“Were you there in the war?”</p> - -<p>“I was there over a year.”</p> - -<p>“I always wanted to travel. I guess I’d rather travel than<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> -do anything. My father, he used to tell me stories about -Italy. He came from Sicily. Were you ever in Sicily?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I was in Sicily.”</p> - -<p>“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Beautiful.”</p> - -<p>“Must be real messed up now.”</p> - -<p>“Not too bad. The scenery’s still there.”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to go there someday,” said Marjorie Ventusa, -knowing that she never would.</p> - -<p>“You’ll like it.”</p> - -<p>Mrs Merrin was looking at her and she pretended to be -busy at his table.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Marjorie Ventusa took care of two tables and then she -went to Robert Holton’s table and placed his cup of coffee -before him.</p> - -<p>“Good morning,” she said to the pretty girl.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“What on earth are you reducing for?”</p> - -<p>“You think I look all right this way?” she asked, pretending -surprise.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Here’s your grapefruit juice.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you very much,” said the girl, paying no attention -to Marjorie Ventusa, saying the words mechanically.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“But Caroline” (her name was Caroline then), “I didn’t -know you were expecting me last night.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I went to Harvard.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I certainly would’ve but I didn’t remember your inviting -me.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right,” said Caroline, drinking her grapefruit -juice and making a face as she did. “God, but this stuff is -sour.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What did you do last night, Bobby?” She called him -Bobby. Marjorie Ventusa wondered if she would ever be -able to call him that.</p> - -<p>“Not a thing. I went home to bed early.”</p> - -<p>“Next time I’ll send you an engraved invitation when I -want you to come to the house.”</p> - -<p>“You do that. What time’s it getting to be?”</p> - -<p>Caroline looked at the clock. “It’s not much after eight-thirty. -Let’s take our time.”</p> - -<p>“We don’t want to be too late.”</p> - -<p>“You haven’t been around long. Nobody gets there on -time. What’re you bucking for, Mr Holton?”</p> - -<p>He grinned at her. Robert Holton had dark blue eyes. -Marjorie Ventusa had never noticed them before. They were -beautiful eyes, she thought suddenly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span></p> - -<p>One of the waitresses came over to her and said, “Boy, you -sure must like that guy in the corner.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean? What you talking about?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“He comes in here a lot and we talk, that’s all. I hope <em>you</em> -don’t mind.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t mind at all, Marjorie. I was just kidding you.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She walked over to Robert Holton’s table. They were -talking.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see what you have against Dick. He’s an awful -nice fellow.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t have anything against him. He just doesn’t like -me. He thinks I’m trying to get his job.”</p> - -<p>“Well, are you?”</p> - -<p>Robert Holton smiled. “I don’t want anything; didn’t you -know that?”</p> - -<p>“Well, aren’t you the saint. You mean you wouldn’t like -to take his job? Not even if it was offered to you?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose if it were easier to take a job than refuse it -I’d take the job. I’m easy to please.”</p> - -<p>Caroline sighed. “You’re easy to please. I guess that’s what -war does to you.”</p> - -<p>“I was always like that. I was like that at college.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span></p> - -<p>“Just lazy?”</p> - -<p>“Just lazy.”</p> - -<p>“Good Lord, it’s almost nine! We have to get out of here.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Got my check, Marjorie?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Caroline stood up and put her gray coat about her shoulders. -Robert Holton picked up his trench coat and slung it -over his arm.</p> - -<p>“I’ll see you at lunch, Marjorie,” he said.</p> - -<p>“See you,” said Marjorie Ventusa and she watched them -as they went out the door into the bright autumn morning.</p> - -<p>“Say, Marjorie,” said one of her regular customers, “how -about some more coffee.”</p> - -<p>“O.K., O.K.,” she said.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,” said Marjorie Ventusa.</p> - -<p>She began to clear Robert Holton’s table.</p> - -<p>“What about my coffee?” asked the customer. “When I -going to get it?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><em>Chapter Three</em></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="p2">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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, Caroline,” she said in a nasal voice. -“Good morning, Bob.”</p> - -<p>“Hello, Ruth,” said Robert Holton, and Caroline Lawson -smiled at her.</p> - -<p>“Anything new?” asked Robert Holton.</p> - -<p>“Not a thing, Bob, not a thing. Everything’s just as dull as -ever. Of course, it’s still early.”</p> - -<p>“Sure,” said Caroline, amused at the thought of anything -interesting happening to them, “the day’s just started.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m glad,” said Robert Holton.</p> - -<p>“You certainly <em>are</em> eager,” said Ruth, looking up at him, -her head slightly to one side: the way that movie actresses -looked.</p> - -<p>Robert Holton laughed. “I guess I am.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I used to say,” said Robert Holton.</p> - -<p>“Come on, Bob,” said Caroline. “Let’s get back to the salt -mine.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> -a large blackboard, ticker tape machines, and men recording -the prices of the various stocks.</p> - -<p>“Look busy, don’t they?” commented Caroline.</p> - -<p>“They certainly do. I wouldn’t have that job for anything.”</p> - -<p>“I think it’d be sort of exciting.”</p> - -<p>“Too much running around for me. I like to sit still.”</p> - -<p>“It takes,” said Caroline, “all kinds to make up a world.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You like to dance, don’t you?” she asked suddenly.</p> - -<p>“What? Dance? Sure, I like to dance. Why?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Robert Holton laughed. “That wasn’t so long ago, when -you were at college. Don’t you go out any more?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I do. You know I do, all the time, and I’m not -trying to get you to ask me out either.”</p> - -<p>He laughed at her and that was all.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Let’s get back to the office,” said Holton.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>One of the two phones on her desk rang. She picked up -the receiver. “Hello?” Someone asked for Mr Murphy. “He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, Caroline. How’s the girl?” It was Mr -Murphy.</p> - -<p>Caroline swallowed quickly. “Fine, fine, Mr Murphy. -How’re you today?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said Caroline, smiling at him. She smelled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Any calls? Anything new?”</p> - -<p>“You had one call. No message, though. The man said he’d -call back later.”</p> - -<p>“Good.” Mr Murphy sat down at his desk.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Mr Murphy finished reading his letters.</p> - -<p>“Anything important?” asked Caroline.</p> - -<p>Mr Murphy shook his head. “Not much of anything. We -got one letter here I ought to answer.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“I’m ready,” said Caroline Lawson.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“That’s a very nice letter, Mr Murphy. Knowing Mr -Lachum, I think you were certainly nice to him.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span></p> - -<p>“All right, let’s hear that letter back.”</p> - -<p>Caroline read the letter. Mr Murphy listened, pleased.</p> - -<p>“That’s fine,” he said when she had finished. “Type it up -please.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Her fingers moved swiftly over the keys. She made rhythms -as she typed, as the keys clattered on the white paper.</p> - -<p>In a few minutes she was finished.</p> - -<p>“Very nice,” said Mr Murphy, looking over her shoulder. -“Very nice, indeed. I’ll sign that now.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>She blotted his signature. “What’ll I do next?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“I expect you’d better get on those reports for Mr Golden. -He was asking for them yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“What <em>does</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you know how some people are,” said Mr Murphy, -meaning much more than he said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I’ll get to work on it right away,” said Caroline.</p> - -<p>“Good, I think I’ll go up to the front office. If there’re any -calls tell them I’ll call back.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mr Murphy.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p> - -<p>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 <em>malaise</em>. Having thought of this word, she -was pleased with it. The word described her sudden fits of -depression.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“How’s it going, Caroline?”</p> - -<p>“I’m slowed up.” She sighed loudly and wilted in her -chair.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“He’s some character,” said Robert Holton. He sat down -on the railing.</p> - -<p>“It would be nice,” said Caroline thoughtfully, “to go out -in the country; have a picnic maybe.”</p> - -<p>“Sure, that would be nice, but you couldn’t do that.”</p> - -<p>“No, I guess <em>you</em> couldn’t.” Caroline was contemptuous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“You’re going out tonight, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>Robert Holton nodded. “I’m going to a cocktail party; I’m -going to Mrs Raymond Stevanson’s.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I hate staying in one place,” said Caroline, after a moment -of silence.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He shrugged. “A lot of people do, I guess. Marjorie, you -know, the waitress, she wants to go to Sicily.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s different. I mean she’s not ... well, you know -what I mean, she’s probably happy doing what she’s doing.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why,” said Robert Holton. They thought of -Marjorie Ventusa for a moment then they didn’t think of her -again.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Robert Holton, “no, I want to stay in one place.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t want to be doing the same thing all the time, -do you?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, I’d like to make more money.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span></p> - -<p>“Why’m I crazy? Because I want to make more money?”</p> - -<p>“Not because of that, of course. Just because.”</p> - -<p>“Oh.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Why, hello, Dick,” said Caroline.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“How’s every little thing?” asked Dick Kuppelton.</p> - -<p>“Fine,” said Robert Holton. Caroline only smiled; she -smiled with her eyes as well as her mouth. It was important -to smile that way.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“It may be,” said Robert Holton without much interest.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got a report like that to do, too,” said Caroline.</p> - -<p>“Something for Golden?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>Dick nodded knowingly. “Some report, I bet.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span></p> - -<p>“It’s certainly long,” said Caroline, pointing to the notebook -on her desk.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“He’s real eager,” said Dick unpleasantly.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think he’s that smart,” said Caroline.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got to do some typing,” said Caroline. She wanted -him to go away.</p> - -<p>“Certainly; I suppose I’d better be getting back.” He stood -up straight and stretched. “Well, back to work,” he said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span></p> - -<p>“See you,” said Caroline. Dick was so dependable: you -always knew what to expect.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“How’s that report coming?” Oliver L. Murphy had returned -from the front office.</p> - -<p>“Pretty well, Mr Murphy.”</p> - -<p>“Had quite a session with Mr Golden.”</p> - -<p>“I bet,” said Caroline with sympathy. “I’ll bet he was -something.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Smells nice, don’t it?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><em>Chapter Four</em></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="p2">Richard Kuppelton left Caroline reluctantly. He liked -her because she was pretty and much more sensible than the -other pretty girls he had known.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He slipped the magazine under his arm, the cover toward -his side; and then, busily, he left the room for the lavatory.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Deliberately he hung up his coat and then, after some -preparation, he descended with a sigh upon the cool smooth -seat. He relaxed happily.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Bob,” said Richard Kuppelton.</p> - -<p>“What? That you, Dick?”</p> - -<p>“The same.”</p> - -<p>“You catching up on your reading?”</p> - -<p>Richard Kuppelton closed his magazine guiltily. “No, no. -Just nature.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a good place to think.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I suppose it is.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span></p> - -<p>“What’s wrong with Caroline today?” asked Robert Holton.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t the slightest idea. I didn’t notice anything -wrong with her, did you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I thought she was sort of irritable.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“She’s a lot of fun to go out on a party with. She can be -real funny.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so.”</p> - -<p>“You ever go out with her?”</p> - -<p>“Not really.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“I never went to a party with her. We had dinner once.”</p> - -<p>“She didn’t want to go dancing?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I guess everybody does.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Looks like there’ll be a lot of changes after the first,” said -Kuppelton.</p> - -<p>“They tell me there usually are.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose you want to end up in the other office, being -one of the contact people.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t care much. Whatever they want to do. I’d like -to move up, of course.”</p> - -<p>“We all would.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> -chorus. The words that he made up, however, were quite -good enough.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>A tall white-faced boy in a blue suit came into the room.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> -He went to Richard Kuppelton's desk and put some papers -on it.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, Jim,” said Kuppelton heartily. “How’s the -boy?”</p> - -<p>“Fine. I think Golden’s coming this way.”</p> - -<p>“Really? Wonder what he wants.”</p> - -<p>“Hard to say. He always wants something.”</p> - -<p>“That’s his privilege,” said Kuppelton righteously.</p> - -<p>“I suppose so,” said Jim.</p> - -<p>The white-faced boy went on to the next desk, handing -out letters and inter-office memoranda.</p> - -<p>Richard Kuppelton put his fountain pen down carefully. -There were several letters for him. He opened one of them -and started to read.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> -more like a South American or Italian or something like that, -thought Kuppelton.</p> - -<p>He pretended to write figures in his notebook, while he -listened carefully to what Mr Golden was saying to Mr -Murphy.</p> - -<p>“Everything all right here, Murphy?” Mr Golden had a -high thin voice.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, we’re getting your reports out. I’ll have the special -one for you this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I’m sure she’ll do a good job. How’s that aircraft stock -report coming?”</p> - -<p>“Kuppelton’s doing it.” Mr Murphy pointed to him.</p> - -<p>Mr Golden nodded. “I’ll be interested to see it.” Richard -Kuppelton copied figures quickly.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I almost forgot; there’ll be a meeting at eleven-thirty.” -Mr Golden had an irritatingly brusque manner.</p> - -<p>“Fine,” said Mr Murphy and he made a note of it on the -pad on his desk.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Mr Golden finally opened the door of the railing. “See you -at the meeting, Murphy.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Richard Kuppelton wondered what Mr Golden had said -to Mr Murphy about Robert Holton. He looked at Robert -Holton with dislike.</p> - -<p>“O.K.,” said Kuppelton, “Mr Golden’s gone, you can stop -working.”</p> - -<p>Robert Holton put down his notebook and smiled. “It -doesn’t hurt,” he said. “It doesn’t hurt to look busy.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, I wasn’t meaning to criticize.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t think you were. Did you hear what they were -talking about?”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I guessed.” He started to work again.</p> - -<p>“You live uptown, don’t you?” remarked Kuppelton.</p> - -<p>“Yes. I’ve got a room in a hotel.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span></p> - -<p>“That’s funny, I thought you lived with your family or -something. I thought Caroline said something about it.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“It’s not much fun, living alone,” said Robert Holton.</p> - -<p>“Think you’ll get married soon?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think so.”</p> - -<p>“I think <em>I</em> might,” said Richard Kuppelton weightily; he -had no one in mind, though; except possibly Caroline.</p> - -<p>“I guess it’s a good idea if you’ve got the right person,” -said Robert Holton.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t any idea.”</p> - -<p>“Since the war, seniority doesn’t make much difference.”</p> - -<p>“I thought it did.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span></p> - -<p>“No, it doesn’t make a bit of difference.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir?”</p> - -<p>“I just wanted to check with you on that aircraft stock -report. I just wanted to make sure it was coming along well.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve been working on it right along, Mr Murphy. They’ll -start typing it up tomorrow.”</p> - -<p>Murphy compressed his lips and nodded slowly. “Mr -Golden was asking for it. I wanted to be sure, Dick.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“It’s been quite a job getting those things together but I -finally ... got them together.”</p> - -<p>“I know how it is. How’s your family these days?”</p> - -<p>“They’re pretty well. My mother’s been better. Her legs -don’t bother her so much now.”</p> - -<p>“That’s good. Arthritis is pretty bad. I had a grandmother -who had it once.”</p> - -<p>“It’s pretty bad,” agreed Richard Kuppelton.</p> - -<p>They both paused and wondered what to say next. Kuppelton<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> -began to edge toward the gate. Murphy stood up. -“Let me see that thing as soon as you get it done.”</p> - -<p>“I certainly will.”</p> - -<p>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?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mr Murphy.”</p> - -<p>“Big conference?” asked Kuppelton when Murphy had -gone.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” said Caroline and she stopped typing. -“They were talking about it. Something to do with policy, -I think.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I guess that leaves me out,” he said wearily, hoping she -would give him some good news.</p> - -<p>“Well, I wouldn’t worry too much,” she said, a little coldly -he thought, “you’ve got a good job now.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you’re right about that,” he said emphatically.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know I am. Bob’s the fair-haired boy these days,” -she added.</p> - -<p>“I expect he is.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span></p> - -<p>“There sure are.”</p> - -<p>“Do you ever wonder about all those people ... down -there?”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“See you, Caroline.”</p> - -<p>Robert Holton was leaning back in his chair.</p> - -<p>“Pretty dull, isn’t it?” commented Dick.</p> - -<p>“The army was a lot duller.”</p> - -<p>“I thought that was one thing that it wasn’t ... dull.”</p> - -<p>Robert Holton chuckled. “This is a lot better.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you miss moving around?”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><em>Chapter Five</em></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="p2">The ulcer was the most important thing.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>As he walked through his office he wished that he were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>He looked at his watch—eleven-fifteen. The meeting would -begin soon. Mr Golden insisted that all meetings begin on -time.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Nice morning,” said the younger of the vice-presidents; -he had been a lieutenant commander in the navy.</p> - -<p>“Certainly is,” said Mr Murphy.</p> - -<p>“I understood we’re in for a cold winter,” commented the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> -older of the two vice-presidents; he had been a commander -in the navy.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>There was a buzz and everyone stopped talking. The receptionist -looked up from her desk. “They’re ready,” she -said.</p> - -<p>The men walked into the boardroom of Heywood and -Golden.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Oliver,” said Mr Heywood cheerily.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“How’s that new man in your office?” asked Mr Heywood -suddenly.</p> - -<p>“You mean Holton? He’s doing very well.”</p> - -<p>“I’m glad to hear it. We have a mutual friend,” and Mr -Heywood laughed gently at the thought.</p> - -<p>“Is that right? He’s got a good background, I guess,” said -Murphy.</p> - -<p>“I expect so. I used to know his mother. She was a very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> -attractive woman twenty years ago. She married...” Mr -Heywood decided not to reminisce in front of Murphy.</p> - -<p>“He’s worked in my section, in the office, just fine.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I know just how it is.”</p> - -<p>“We going to call this meeting together?” It was Mr -Golden’s high voice from the other end of the table.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“The Steel account, that’s the big thing we’re going to talk -about,” said Mr Golden.</p> - -<p>“That’s right.” Mr Heywood sounded bored. “That’s right. -Well, gentlemen, it seems that we have a problem.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Mr Heywood spoke of the market, of stocks and shares, -of the state of the Union. He spoke convincingly because his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> -manner was convincing and, also, because his ideas and -facts had been given him by many clever men.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>knew</em>.</p> - -<p>Then the ulcer began to bother him.</p> - -<p>He no longer was conscious of Mr Heywood’s voice. The -only thing of importance now was the dull pain in his stomach.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“We’ll want complete figures on the rise and fall of Arizona -Zinc during the past five years.”</p> - -<p>This was said by Mr Heywood. It registered in Mr -Murphy’s mind but he didn’t respond for a moment.</p> - -<p>“You’ll have those figures for us next meeting, won’t you?” -Heywood asked, irritation in his voice.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, Mr Heywood,” said Murphy. He sat up straight -and Mr Heywood nodded to him and then continued to talk.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>At last, when certain decisions had been made, Mr Heywood -adjourned the meeting.</p> - -<p>Murphy stood up. He felt better now. He wondered if perhaps -he might not be mistaken about the cancer.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Murphy.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mr Heywood?”</p> - -<p>“That fellow in your office, that Holton, you think he’s -quite efficient?”</p> - -<p>“I do.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“He’d probably do that very well.”</p> - -<p>“You could afford to lose him?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I think so.”</p> - -<p>“I wish,” said Mr Heywood petulantly, “that I knew him -better. It’s terrible having so little contact with the office -people.”</p> - -<p>“I could send him in to see you.”</p> - -<p>“Good Lord, no! I wouldn’t know what to say. I’ll wait -and see him tonight at Mrs Stevanson’s.”</p> - -<p>“When do you think you’ll change him over?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t know. If I think he has the suitable, ah, temperament, -we might change him this week.”</p> - -<p>“I know he’ll be really tickled to hear this.”</p> - -<p>“I expect so.”</p> - -<p>“How is Mrs Heywood?” asked Murphy politely.</p> - -<p>“She’s fine, thank you,” said Mr Heywood blankly. Trouble, -decided Murphy. The third Mrs Heywood seemed to be following -the previous Mrs Heywoods.</p> - -<p>“Well...” said Murphy and he mumbled words to himself -as he walked toward the door. Mr Heywood stared -vacantly at him as he left.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>As he went into the Statistical office he could feel the atmosphere -change. The clerks and typists became busy.</p> - -<p>Mr Murphy went to his desk. “Any calls?” he asked.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span></p> - -<p>“No, there weren’t any calls. Some memorandums came -in from the other sections but that was all.”</p> - -<p>“Any letters?” He thought of his family.</p> - -<p>“Yes.” Caroline sounded surprised. “Right there on your -desk. Right where I always put them.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Caroline typed rhythmically at her desk.</p> - -<p>“Say, Caroline....”</p> - -<p>She stopped and looked at him.</p> - -<p>“Tell Holton to step over here, will you?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>The gate creaked and Robert Holton stood before him.</p> - -<p>“You want to see me, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, Holton. Sit down here. Over here on my left.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“How’s everything coming, Holton?”</p> - -<p>“Just fine, Mr Murphy.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s good. Things <em>have</em> been going pretty well -here. But I suppose you find things pretty dull after the -army?”</p> - -<p>“No, no. I like this sort of work. I had enough moving -around.”</p> - -<p>“I should think so. Well, that’s what most of us want, I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. I think it is.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I hope so.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span></p> - -<p>“I think I do. You would like to work in another department -perhaps?”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, there’s a lot of work to knowing about stocks -and bonds. You realize all the work that’s involved.”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“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 <em>stuff</em>.”</p> - -<p>“I hope so.”</p> - -<p>“Good.” Mr Murphy watched Caroline typing. “I understand,” -said Mr Murphy finally in a changed voice, “that -you’re going out tonight.”</p> - -<p>Robert Holton looked surprised. “What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Mr Heywood said you and he were going to the same -party.”</p> - -<p>Holton smiled. “That’s right, I’d forgotten. Mrs Stevanson’s -giving a cocktail party. I guess that’s what he means.”</p> - -<p>“It won’t hurt to be nice to him there,” said Mr Murphy -with a laugh.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t suppose so.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Well, don’t let your night life interfere with business,” -said Mr Murphy lightly.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Holton rising, “I won’t.”</p> - -<p>With a nod Mr Murphy dismissed him.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He had started to work on his letters (the ones in the -business envelopes) when Richard Kuppelton appeared.</p> - -<p>“Yes?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got the first part of that report here, the one on aircraft,” -said Kuppelton.</p> - -<p>“Yes?” Mr Murphy made himself sound cold and official.</p> - -<p>“Well, I wondered if you cared to look at them ... what -I’ve done so far, I mean.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“You want me to do it for you?” he asked finally.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Why, I’d be glad to look at it,” he said.</p> - -<p>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....”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I’ll take a look at it.”</p> - -<p>Kuppelton put a pile of papers down on Mr Murphy’s -desk.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>His heart beat rapidly and sweat formed on his face. If<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>Frightened, Mr Murphy counted and the pain, not subject -to this magic, did not go away.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><em>Chapter Six</em></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="p2">“It’s twelve o’clock,” Caroline said to Mr Murphy. “I -think I’ll go out to lunch, if that’s O.K.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, Caroline.”</p> - -<p>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....</p> - -<p>“You coming, Caroline?” It was Robert Holton.</p> - -<p>“Be right there.” She arranged the papers on her desk, -shut the drawers and joined Robert Holton outside the gate -of the railing.</p> - -<p>“Where’ll we eat today?” asked Holton.</p> - -<p>“At <em>the</em> restaurant, of course. Where did you think we -would?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span></p> - -<p>“Sometimes you don’t make sense,” said Caroline.</p> - -<p>They were almost through the door when one of the secretaries -called to Holton. “Phone, Bob.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Who was that?”</p> - -<p>“An old friend of mine.”</p> - -<p>“Man or woman?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“You knew him in the army?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>They walked through the offices to the elevator and Holton -pressed the button.</p> - -<p>“What’s he doing in town?”</p> - -<p>“He’s just visiting. I’m going to see him this afternoon. -He’s coming over here after lunch.”</p> - -<p>“That’ll be nice. What does he look like?” She asked this -gaily, hoping to have some effect on him. She didn’t, though.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. He looks all right, I guess.”</p> - -<p>“You certainly are good at description. Be sure to let me -meet him.”</p> - -<p>“I will.”</p> - -<p>The elevator stopped for them and they pushed into the -lunch-going crowd. With a rush they descended to the street -floor.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What a nice day,” said Caroline, breathing deeply and -coughing as the exhaust fumes tickled her throat.</p> - -<p>“Must be nice in the country,” commented Robert Holton.</p> - -<p>“Not you too?” Caroline laughed. “First Murphy and now -you want to go out in the country.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Why do you take so long?” said Caroline disagreeably.</p> - -<p>“Just careful, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> -circle in it. And, as she watched the sky, a large air liner, -like a rigid bird, moved straightly eastward.</p> - -<p>Caroline breathed deeply again, careful this time not to -get the exhaust fumes too far down in her lungs. She coughed -anyway.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She pretended to be busy cleaning a table when they -came in.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Marjorie,” said Holton and he and Caroline came -over to her table.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” said Holton and he and Caroline sat down -at the table, across from each other. “What do you want, -Caroline?”</p> - -<p>“I’d like to see a menu, I think,” said Caroline in a voice<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> -that Marjorie Ventusa would like to have choked out of her.</p> - -<p>“Here,” said Marjorie and she handed them two white -menus.</p> - -<p>They studied the menus.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I think,” said Caroline, frowning a thin hair-wide frown, -“I think I will have some tomato juice, and a lamb chop....”</p> - -<p>“No more lamb chops,” said Marjorie, trying to keep the -triumph from her voice.</p> - -<p>The hair-wide frown became a scowl. “Then I’ll have the -veal.”</p> - -<p>“Any vegetables?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, the spinach.”</p> - -<p>“You can have one other.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all.”</p> - -<p>And Marjorie thought, “the” spinach indeed. Why was it -that when these people wanted to sound elegant they would -talk about everything as “the”?</p> - -<p>“What do you want, Mr Holton?” She wished that she -had the nerve to call him Bob, the right to call him that.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I think I’ll take the same.”</p> - -<p>“Coffee, tea, or milk?” She said the words as though they -were one word.</p> - -<p>They both asked for coffee and Marjorie went quickly out -of the dining room and into the kitchen.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She didn’t want to go back yet. She hoped Mrs Merrin -would not come into the kitchen for a while.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>They stopped talking as she came up to them.</p> - -<p>“Here you are,” said Marjorie Ventusa brightly, putting -the glasses of tomato juice on the table.</p> - -<p>Robert Holton smiled at her, showing his white even teeth.</p> - -<p>“Have you got a date for tonight?” asked Robert Holton.</p> - -<p>“You know I always do.”</p> - -<p>“A sailor maybe?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not saying.”</p> - -<p>“Get one who’ll take you to Italy.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> -Marjorie forgave him because he was young and because she -felt about him in a certain way.</p> - -<p>“Maybe we’ll go to Capri together,” she said. “Is it nice -there?”</p> - -<p>Holton nodded. “Beautiful.”</p> - -<p>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?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Kuppelton looked through the window. He blinked nearsightedly. -Then he saw Robert Holton and Caroline.</p> - -<p>“Caroline’s in there,” he said.</p> - -<p>“With Bob?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Well, let’s go on in.” Ruth liked Robert Holton.</p> - -<p>“Hello, hello,” said Kuppelton heartily when they were -inside.</p> - -<p>Caroline and Robert Holton appeared glad to see them.</p> - -<p>“My gracious, it certainly is crowded,” said Ruth, pointing -to the people standing.</p> - -<p>“Lucky you people were here,” said Kuppelton.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I know,” said Holton. “Took me months to get a room.”</p> - -<p>“Is it nice?” asked Caroline.</p> - -<p>He shook his head. “It’s very depressing.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>They talked of the places where they lived and then they -started to talk of the places where they would like to live.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Looks good, doesn’t it?” commented Marjorie.</p> - -<p>“Sure, sure,” said Holton, looking at his plate with distaste.</p> - -<p>Kuppelton ordered veal and Marjorie left.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Any interesting people come into the office?” asked Holton,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> -turning to Ruth: as receptionist she was always able to -tell them about celebrities.</p> - -<p>Ruth nodded. “Laura Whitner was in to see Mr Heywood.”</p> - -<p>Caroline was interested. “She’s the movie star, isn’t she?”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>Marjorie Ventusa returned with veal for Kuppelton and -the ham and eggs for Ruth.</p> - -<p>“Oh, thank you,” said Ruth. “I love ham,” she added.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Robert Holton finished eating. He sat back in his chair -and yawned.</p> - -<p>“Bored?” asked Caroline.</p> - -<p>He shook his head. “No, not very. Just sleepy.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Kuppelton decided, however, to develop what she’d said. -“Sure, he’s a good friend of Mr Heywood.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span></p> - -<p>Ruth was impressed. “I certainly wish I had your contacts -then. I sure wouldn’t be working in this lousy job.”</p> - -<p>Robert Holton wanted to know what was wrong with her -job.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you know how it is. Doing the same thing day after -day. It makes me sick. I’d like to do something exciting.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Robert Holton, who had traveled, said that he didn’t care -to leave New York again: not for many years at least.</p> - -<p>“You’re not adventurous,” said Caroline sadly.</p> - -<p>Ruth protected him. “After all, he’s had some adventures. -He was in the war.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> -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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Ready for dessert?” asked Marjorie Ventusa cheerfully, -trying not to look at Robert Holton.</p> - -<p>They were ready.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The ice cream was ready and she took it back to the dining -room.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>The dark girl with the big nose disagreed: “It’s much<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> -more natural to be able to wander around like you want to -do. It’s natural to travel, I think.”</p> - -<p>He laughed. Marjorie liked his laugh. He said, “You should -get married, that’s what you should do.”</p> - -<p>The dark girl became coquettish. “But I haven’t had any -offers yet. Of course, I’m open to any.”</p> - -<p>The bitch, thought Marjorie Ventusa, disliking her now.</p> - -<p>“You shouldn’t have any trouble,” said Holton gallantly -and Marjorie liked him for saying this.</p> - -<p>“You’re just saying that.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>They finished the ice cream.</p> - -<p>Marjorie walked over to the table. “Will there be anything -else?” she asked officially.</p> - -<p>There was nothing else.</p> - -<p>“We’ll have our check, please, Marjorie,” said Robert Holton -and she liked the way he said her name.</p> - -<p>“Certainly.” She went to the cashier and had the four -checks totalled. Then she came back.</p> - -<p>They paid her.</p> - -<p>“Back to work,” said the blue-eyed girl with a sigh.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><em>Chapter Seven</em></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="p2">“Here we are,” said Caroline.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Jim!” said Holton when he saw him; the other looked up.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Kuppelton went to his own desk without speaking to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> -army officer. Caroline stood expectantly beside Robert Holton, -waiting to be introduced.</p> - -<p>“This,” said Holton finally, “is Caroline. Caroline, meet -Jim Trebling.”</p> - -<p>“How do you do,” said Trebling.</p> - -<p>“How do you do,” said Caroline and they shook hands. -His hand, she noticed, was rough and hard.</p> - -<p>“You live in New York?” asked Caroline. This was always -a good beginning because it could lead to all sorts of confessions.</p> - -<p>He shook his head. “No, I’m from California. I’m from Los -Angeles.”</p> - -<p>She was impressed. “That’s where Hollywood is, isn’t it? -You from Hollywood?”</p> - -<p>No, he was not from Hollywood. He lived near by.</p> - -<p>“I’d certainly like to visit out there.”</p> - -<p>“It’s not as interesting as New York.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“Are you regular army?” she asked. Men in uniform were -becoming rare.</p> - -<p>“No, I’m getting out soon. I signed up for a little while -longer.”</p> - -<p>“Oh.”</p> - -<p>He and Robert Holton began to talk then about the -army and she felt shut out. She stood there wondering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Are you in the East long?” she asked.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“Looking around?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, looking around.”</p> - -<p>“Caroline,” said Robert Holton, as though explaining an -important thing, “Caroline is the belle of the office.”</p> - -<p>“I can see that,” said Trebling without too much effort, -saying it almost naturally, a hard thing to do.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Trebling nodded seriously. “Yes, I saw quite a bit. No -more than Bob did, though.”</p> - -<p>“That must’ve been nice,” said Caroline, “your being able -to serve together everywhere.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it was.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span></p> - -<p>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?”</p> - -<p>“No, not particularly.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you’ll be out soon, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>“Quite soon.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Trebling was surprised at the way Holton looked out of -uniform.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Jim looked at Holton, trying to get accustomed to him. -“You’ve certainly changed. I don’t know if I’d have recognized -you.”</p> - -<p>Robert Holton laughed a little self-consciously. “These<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> -civilian clothes <em>are</em> different. They make you feel different.”</p> - -<p>“You’re really settling down, I guess.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid so.”</p> - -<p>“I wish I could. Maybe I will when I get out ... I don’t -know.”</p> - -<p>“What do you think you’re going to do?”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>Holton nodded. “That’s a good idea, I guess. I thought of -it, too, but of course the odds are against you.”</p> - -<p>Trebling was surprised to hear Holton say this. “I know -it,” he said.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Jim changed the subject. “How do you like being out?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s pretty wonderful. Just to be able to stay in one -place....”</p> - -<p>“I guess it’s nice for a while.”</p> - -<p>Holton sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever travel again.”</p> - -<p>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?”</p> - -<p>“Well, maybe sometime. I hadn’t stopped moving for very -long then.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span></p> - -<p>As they talked, the words forming conventional patterns -and hiding their real thoughts, Jim thought of the war.</p> - -<p>“You remember the time we were in Florence?”</p> - -<p>Holton said that he remembered it very well.</p> - -<p>They spoke then of Florence and as they talked Jim Trebling -began to remember many things.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>They stayed with a family outside of the town; they -stayed in a place called Fiesole.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And Jim had said, embarrassed by the long silence, “It’s -so peaceful here.”</p> - -<p>The other two acted as if they had not heard him. Holton, -sitting close beside Carla, touched her.</p> - -<p>And then she had said, “It seems like such a long time -ago.” They thought of this as they sat in the blue darkness.</p> - -<p>Holton finally spoke, saying, “Isn’t it a shame that this -has to change again?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Why <em>should</em> this change again?” asked Carla, looking at -him, trying to tell his expression in the dark.</p> - -<p>Holton only sighed and said, “Because everything changes -when you go away.”</p> - -<p>“You can come back,” said Carla and Jim remembered -now the exact way she had said that and he was sorry for -her.</p> - -<p>Holton didn’t answer for a moment and then he had said, -“Yes, I suppose you can.” They knew then that he would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> -not come back and Trebling could sense her sadness as they -watched the lights flickering below them.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“Do you remember Carla?” asked Jim suddenly, his mind -adjusting to the present.</p> - -<p>“The girl in Florence? Sure, I remember her. Was that her -name ... Carla?”</p> - -<p>“That’s right.”</p> - -<p>“She was very nice looking, wasn’t she?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Sure, I remember her.”</p> - -<p>“I thought you liked her quite a bit,” said Trebling, not -looking at Holton.</p> - -<p>“I suppose I did. We ran into a lot of people, though. -There were so many people.”</p> - -<p>Trebling agreed that there had been a number of people -in Europe, people they had known.</p> - -<p>“That was a good town, Florence,” said Holton suddenly.</p> - -<p>“It was.”</p> - -<p>“We were there a week, weren’t we?”</p> - -<p>“About that.”</p> - -<p>Holton nodded, and Trebling watched him to see how he -felt; Holton’s face told him nothing, though. He was only -remembering.</p> - -<p>“It’s certainly a nice feeling to be out,” said Holton -finally.</p> - -<p>“I guess it must be.”</p> - -<p>“Not having to worry about being moved from place to -place.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They were standing in the Roman Forum. All around them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>Trebling had remarked, “I’ll bet those pillars are pretty -old.”</p> - -<p>Holton agreed, “Maybe a thousand years old.”</p> - -<p>Together they had looked at the three columns of the -ruined temple.</p> - -<p>Trebling asked, “Do you think you would’ve ever gotten -here except in the army?”</p> - -<p>“No. I don’t guess so.”</p> - -<p>“I probably wouldn’t have either.”</p> - -<p>“It’s sort of interesting.”</p> - -<p>And Trebling had said, “I like the traveling part of all -this.”</p> - -<p>Robert Holton agreed to this and then they began to complain -about other things.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“How do you like it here?” he asked.</p> - -<p>Holton shrugged. “O.K., I suppose. It’s something to do.”</p> - -<p>“You think you’ll stay in this sort of work?”</p> - -<p>“Probably, I don’t know yet.”</p> - -<p>“I had thought you might go into this new thing with -me.</p> - -<p>“Well....”</p> - -<p>Neither spoke for a moment.</p> - -<p>Finally Trebling asked, “Can I smoke in here?”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, Jim, but....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p> - -<p>“Sure, I know: rules.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry. These people are awful stiff about a lot of -things.”</p> - -<p>Jim Trebling wished again that he hadn’t come. He had -an impulse to run away. “What’re you doing tonight?” he -asked finally.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to a big cocktail party.”</p> - -<p>“Being social, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you know you have to make contacts...” he continued, -explaining himself carefully.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“It must be nice to be out,” Trebling repeated, not knowing -what else to say.</p> - -<p>And Robert Holton explained to him in detail why it was -so nice to be free.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> -girls. Trebling could not remember their names; he could -remember nothing about them except that they were rather -pretty and claimed to be sisters.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>When they had finished lunch Holton wanted to go walk -in the woods. Only one of the girls spoke English.</p> - -<p>“Let’s take a walk in the woods,” Holton suggested.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span></p> - -<p>“Say, Bob, do you remember those two girls from Paris?”</p> - -<p>“When was that?”</p> - -<p>“You know, the time we went on the picnic.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid I’ve forgotten.” That was that.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Holton got to his feet quickly and Trebling did the same, -sensing that this was a person of importance.</p> - -<p>“Jim Trebling, this is Mr Murphy, the Chief of our section.”</p> - -<p>“Glad to meet you, Lieutenant.” They shook hands vigorously, -Mr Murphy smiling with goodwill.</p> - -<p>“Well, Lieutenant, I suppose you’ll be getting out soon?”</p> - -<p>Mechanically Trebling explained what he was planning -to do.</p> - -<p>“Think you’ll go into Business?” asked Mr Murphy.</p> - -<p>“Maybe, I don’t know.”</p> - -<p>“Lot of openings now for a young man who wants to get -ahead.”</p> - -<p>“There probably are.”</p> - -<p>They talked for a while of Business as though it were a -state of being.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span></p> - -<p>Coming back on the boat together they had talked of -what they were going to do when they got out.</p> - -<p>“I think I’d like to make money,” said Holton, looking at -the white wake of the ship.</p> - -<p>“That’s not a bad idea. How?”</p> - -<p>“Damned if I know.”</p> - -<p>“We could always start that pottery business I was telling -you about, back in California.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a thought.”</p> - -<p>“Of course there’re a lot of other things we could do.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose it’s all a matter of picking the right one.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I guess all these people are going to be trying the same -thing,” said Holton suddenly.</p> - -<p>“Try what? Starting a business?”</p> - -<p>Sure.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think so.”</p> - -<p>“A lot of them will.”</p> - -<p>“So what?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span></p> - -<p>“So would I,” said Trebling with casual sincerity.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Mr Murphy was talking about Business.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Very nice to have met you, Lieutenant,” said Mr Murphy -at last.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Trebling was aware of someone standing beside him. He -looked up: it was the blue-eyed girl. He started to get to -his feet.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Sit down,” said Trebling.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span></p> - -<p>“Thank you.” She sat down in the chair beside him. He -wondered what to say to her, what to talk about.</p> - -<p>“Have you been here long?” he asked.</p> - -<p>She told him that she had been there for several years.</p> - -<p>“It must be interesting working in a place like this.”</p> - -<p>She laughed. “It’s pretty awful, I think. As jobs go, of -course, it’s not bad.”</p> - -<p>“But you’d rather not work at all.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>She recognized this and answered according to the ritual, -“Oh, maybe someday, when I meet the right person.”</p> - -<p>This could mean a lot. He was interested now. “That’s important, -meeting the right person.”</p> - -<p>They were both silent, thinking how important it was to -meet the right person.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you can have a pretty good time in New York -if you know the right places to go.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, there are some nice places. You have to be very -careful, though.”</p> - -<p>“A lot of them are clip joints, I guess.”</p> - -<p>She laughed. “I’ll say they are.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span></p> - -<p>“Depends, I guess, on who you go out with.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you should know your way around.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Well, there’re a lot of them around.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“It’s not much fun alone.” This was said almost pathetically.</p> - -<p>“What about Bob?”</p> - -<p>“He’s going to that cocktail party.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I forgot.” A pause now, a silence with great -meaning in it.</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” and he was saying it at last, “maybe <em>you</em> might -go out with me tonight.”</p> - -<p>“Me!” Surprise, pleasure, a certain asperity, all these emotions -splendidly portrayed in that one word. “Well....”</p> - -<p>“Of course if you’re busy....”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“That would be fine. I hope you don’t think it’s ...”</p> - -<p>“Certainly not.” Then she said that any friend of Bob’s was -a friend of hers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“That’s a pretty girl,” said Trebling.</p> - -<p>“Caroline? Yes, she’s pretty nice.”</p> - -<p>They stood looking at each other awkwardly. “Shall we -get together tomorrow evening?” suggested Holton.</p> - -<p>“Sure, that’d be fine.”</p> - -<p>“Well, listen, Jim, it’s been wonderful seeing you....”</p> - -<p>“And I’ve enjoyed it....” Their voices intermingled into -a single sound. Neither of them listened to the words of the -other.</p> - -<p>“See you tomorrow then, Bob?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>The elevator door opened and he stepped inside.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><em>Chapter Eight</em></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="p2">At five-thirty the world ceased to be official and became -private.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Caroline was putting on her hat and Mr Murphy sat at -his desk behind her, dreaming, his eyes fixed shrewdly upon -nothing.</p> - -<p>Robert Holton walked over to Caroline.</p> - -<p>“Ready to go?”</p> - -<p>She nodded. “All ready.” Together they walked through -the emptying offices, rode down the crowded elevator, and -stepped out into the more crowded street.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Guess what?” said Caroline.</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span></p> - -<p>“I’m going out tonight.”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“I’m going out with Lieutenant Trebling.”</p> - -<p>He was surprised. “That was fast work. Did he do that -while he was in the office?”</p> - -<p>“We talked about it. He called me back later and I told -him I’d go out with him.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well.” Holton was admiring but Caroline was not -sure whether he was admiring her or Trebling.</p> - -<p>“I think he’s nice,” she said, not committing herself.</p> - -<p>“Yes, he’s a good guy.”</p> - -<p>They crossed a street nervously and in silence. On the -other side they went on talking.</p> - -<p>“Tell me something about him?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“That’s not what I want to know.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what do you want to know?”</p> - -<p>She had trouble saying this. “Oh, you know ... the sort -of person he is. All that sort of thing.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“Is he now?”</p> - -<p>“Just his ideas. In those days I used to be the wild one.”</p> - -<p>She laughed and thought he was joking with her and this -made him angry and sad but there was nothing he could do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> -about it because he had assumed a certain identity with her -and it had to be maintained.</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet you were wild!”</p> - -<p>“We all change,” he said.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Holton laughed. “No, you can get him if you want to.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t mean that at all. What do you mean by saying -that?”</p> - -<p>“Not a thing.”</p> - -<p>She went on talking for several moments, trying to be indignant. -Then they crossed another street and she stopped -talking.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Holton stood on the concrete platform with a hundred -others who had missed this train and were waiting for the -next.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The other advertisements were less interesting and he -didn’t look at them very long.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>A couple were embracing beside a large rock. He watched -them with interest as he went by.</p> - -<p>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....</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> -and saw that it was staring vacantly ahead, concentrating -upon growth.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There was no mail for him.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Been a nice day,” said the person behind the desk.</p> - -<p>“It certainly has,” said Robert Holton.</p> - -<p>“Won’t be long until it’s winter,” said the person behind -the desk.</p> - -<p>“It won’t be long,” said Holton. He turned then and -walked through the dingy lobby to the elevator.</p> - -<p>He and the elevator boy discussed the kind of day it had -been. They also decided that it would be winter soon.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He started to think of Trebling but stopped himself. There -was nothing to be done now. The old friendship was gone.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And he did remember about Paris. He remembered the -picnic outside Versailles, although he could not remember -the faces of the two girls.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> -impressive. Perhaps his face would get that way as he grew -older. He turned away from the mirror.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The elevator boy wanted to know if he was going to a -party.</p> - -<p>“Sure, I’m going to a big party.”</p> - -<p>“Lots of girls, I bet.” The pale thin elevator boy was interested.</p> - -<p>“A whole lot of them.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Robert Holton stopped by the desk.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” said the clerk. “Nice night tonight,” he added.</p> - -<p>“Nice fall night,” agreed Robert Holton.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span></p> - -<p>They discussed the evening politely. Then Robert Holton -left the hotel.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span></p> - -<p class="half-title">2<br /> -NIGHT</p> -</div> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span></p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><em>Chapter Nine</em></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="p2">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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Good evening, Helena.” Mrs Stevanson turned around -and saw the thin malicious face of Beatrice Jordan. They -were contemporaries.</p> - -<p>“Beatrice! How marvelous!” They touched cheeks with -slight frowns, then came apart again with affectionate smiles.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span></p> - -<p>“Helena, you’ve lost weight! How?”</p> - -<p>Mrs Stevanson was pleased. “Does it really show?” She -patted her cement-hard corseted buttock.</p> - -<p>“Not so much around there,” said Beatrice, thinking for a -moment. “More around here.” She touched her own meager -breasts.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“It’s been lovely seeing you, Helena darling. I’ve got to -join my escort now. I came with Clyde.”</p> - -<p>Beatrice said this triumphantly but gained no victory.</p> - -<p>“You came with Clyde. How wonderful! I’m dining with -him tomorrow.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed?”</p> - -<p>“Is he here now?”</p> - -<p>“He’s in the other room.”</p> - -<p>“Do tell him to see me before he leaves. There are <em>so</em> -many people here.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> -then it would unfold again, release her and become tight and -compact once more.</p> - -<p>Certain groups contained people more important than -other groups. In these she lingered longest, smiling the -most attractively, saying her superlatives.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 -<em>were</em> eating heavily, she noticed) at a cocktail party.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She had also invited George <em>Robert</em> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>advanced</em>. And then -he was marvelously decadent and the decadent was becoming -popular now that the artificial virility of war was safely -past.</p> - -<p>George <em>Robert</em> Lewis was also an interesting person to -know because he was the editor of <cite>Regarde</cite>, a magazine -which had been called <em>avant garde</em> 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.</p> - -<p>Lewis was talking to a small brown man whom she didn’t -remember inviting.</p> - -<p>“Dear Helena,” said Lewis as she approached, “you look -wonderfully well-preserved.”</p> - -<p>“George, you’re a devil,” said Mrs Stevanson, secretly -pleased.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span></p> - -<p>“Nothing that you couldn’t equal. It was delightful of you -to come.”</p> - -<p>“I was so bored, darling, I felt that if I stayed home another -moment I should go completely out of my mind.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“And whom have we here?” asked Mrs Stevanson, turning -to face the small brown man beside him, a social smile -on her face.</p> - -<p>“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 <em>Robert</em> Lewis explained him. -He was a Greek and a professor and he knew a lot about -poetry.</p> - -<p>“<em>But</em> 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.</p> - -<p>“I’m sure Mrs Stevanson wouldn’t be interested.” As a -matter of fact Mrs Stevanson wasn’t interested but she encouraged -him.</p> - -<p>“I should love to know,” she said. How like an earthenware -pot he looks, she thought as he began to tell her his -theory.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it stimulating?” asked Lewis when the Greek named -Timon had finished.</p> - -<p>“Wonderful,” murmured Mrs Stevanson.</p> - -<p>The Greek flushed happily. “I don’t think the Argosy’s -ever been interpreted quite that way before.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Have you seen the new ballet?” asked Lewis suddenly.</p> - -<p>“No, I haven’t seemed to have had the time.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I must ...” began Mrs Stevanson moving slowly away.</p> - -<p>“So nice to have met you,” said the small Greek named -Timon.</p> - -<p>“The pleasure ...” murmured Mrs Stevanson.</p> - -<p>Lewis waved to her. “I shall see you later, Helena.” Mrs<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> -Stevanson wondered irritably why fairies had to have such -unpleasant voices.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Heywood dear, it was so nice of you to come.”</p> - -<p>“It’s nice to be here, Helena.” He looked unhappily at the -footman, retreating with the overcoat.</p> - -<p>“And where is your lovely wife?” Mrs Stevanson knew -perfectly well they were no longer on speaking terms.</p> - -<p>“My wife?” Heywood became dreamy, vague and distant. -“Oh, she’s not well at all.”</p> - -<p>“Really? Do tell me what’s wrong. I’ve a very good doctor, -you know.”</p> - -<p>“It’s nothing, really. She has trouble with her head. I -think it’s her head.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you never can tell,” said Mrs Stevanson who knew -Mrs Heywood’s exact age.</p> - -<p>“What a lot of people,” sighed Heywood. “So many -people.”</p> - -<p>“There <em>are</em> a lot,” said Mrs Stevanson proudly. “As usual -I don’t know half of them.”</p> - -<p>Carefully she cut Mr Heywood away from her, allowed -him to float unprotected through the groups of people. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>Several people were entering the drawing room. They -walked slowly with the carefully controlled uneasiness of -people who didn’t know the hostess well.</p> - -<p>She recognized one of the newcomers and she greeted him -joyfully: Ulysses returned to Ithaca, as the small Greek -named Timon might have said.</p> - -<p>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 <em>was</em> rather wonderful.</p> - -<p>“And this,” said the man she knew, “is Mrs Bankton.”</p> - -<p>“How do you do,” said Mrs Bankton in a low voice. She -was not English; Mrs Stevanson could tell that right away.</p> - -<p>“We’ve met before, I think?” A hint of question was in -Mrs Stevanson’s voice.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think we have.”</p> - -<p>Mrs Bankton was definitely not English. Her accent was -French or Spanish or Italian. Mrs Stevanson could never tell -one from the other.</p> - -<p>“Mrs Bankton’s husband is the artist,” said the man she -knew slightly.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” said Mrs Stevanson wondering who Bankton -was. “Certainly, I know. But you’re not English, my dear?”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> -facts and, ultimately, confidences. People always confided -in Mrs Stevanson, knowing that she was not sufficiently -interested in them to repeat what she heard.</p> - -<p>“I do hope you’ll enjoy yourself,” said Mrs Stevanson -more cordially than she would have done had she liked the -person.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The drawing room was large, formal and very light. Three -chandeliers hung from the high ceiling. The walls were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You’re little Bob Holton, aren’t you?” A strange description, -he thought.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mrs Stevanson, you remember we met last year -and....”</p> - -<p>“Of course we did. How <em>is</em> your father?”</p> - -<p>“Fine, just fine.” His father hated her.</p> - -<p>“I’m so glad to hear that. I think you look more like your -mother, you know. She was such a lovely woman.”</p> - -<p>He mumbled thank you.</p> - -<p>“Your mother was one of the most charming women I ever -knew. She had such a wonderful way of doing things, so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> -original.” Like marrying my father, thought Holton. “She -was always full of surprises. I used to enjoy her so much.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“It was very nice of you...” began Holton.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I’ve seen her act,” he said accurately.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes.” Mrs Stevanson looked around the room. He -could see that she was preparing to leave him alone.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“How do you do,” said Holton, shaking hands with a dark -man. Then he shook hands with a light man, with a short<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> -heavy one, with a thin blonde girl and finally he shook hands -with Mrs Bankton.</p> - -<p>“How do you do,” said Robert Holton.</p> - -<p>“How do <em>you</em> 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.</p> - -<p>“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....”</p> - -<p>“But who am I?” She laughed and gestured with her long -white hands.</p> - -<p>“Yes, who are you?”</p> - -<p>“Carla.”</p> - -<p>“No!”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve changed. I....”</p> - -<p>“And so have you. I think you look younger out of uniform.”</p> - -<p>“But....”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Then you’re married?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I’m very happy to hear that.” He didn’t know what else -to say.</p> - -<p>“Thank you. Let’s get out of this crowd.” She looked about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“You’re surprised, aren’t you?” She spoke softly.</p> - -<p>“A little, I guess. I don’t know. I have to get used to the idea. -I always associated you with ... with Florence and....”</p> - -<p>“You felt that was behind you?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I have very warm memories,” she said lightly.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I’m sure you did, and you liked Fiesole, and the -nights and summer days. I suppose you liked them all.”</p> - -<p>“I liked them all.”</p> - -<p>“And that was what you liked, all that you can remember?”</p> - -<p>“No, I <em>remember</em> more. I ... I didn’t know if you’d want -to talk about that; being married and....”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“Several years.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span></p> - -<p>“It was very pretty.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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 <em>were</em> beautiful.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“You know ... I can say more. I didn’t think you wanted -to hear it. That was so long ago. You’re married and....”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“No one else? No one...?”</p> - -<p>“Well....”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> -I’d like to drink some whiskey. Shall we go to the bar?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, Carla.” He was glad that he had said her -name naturally.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What a dreadful room,” said Carla.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Some places are more modern.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“You don’t like it?”</p> - -<p>“I think I’ve had enough for now. You remember how -little I used to drink.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Let’s find some place to sit down,” she said.</p> - -<p>“I thought you wanted to walk around.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> - -<p>She laughed. “All right, we’ll do both.” They walked -around.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>They came to an especially large group, a dozen men surrounding -Laura Whitner.</p> - -<p>“Do you want to meet her?” asked Carla, looking at Holton, -knowing that he did.</p> - -<p>“You don’t know her?”</p> - -<p>“But of course. I know everyone.”</p> - -<p>They cut their way through the bewitched men, cut -through to the enchantress herself.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“But my tiny Carla, what are you doing in New York? I -haven’t seen you for years, not since Paris.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span></p> - -<p>“I’m here visiting.”</p> - -<p>“But I’m so happy to see you! You know, you’re the last -person I’d expect to run into here.”</p> - -<p>“I had to get away from Europe. I hadn’t been to America -since I was a child.”</p> - -<p>Laura Whitner looked at her hands. “You’re not married, -are you?” Carla wore no wedding ring.</p> - -<p>Carla smiled and nodded.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Carla laughed. “No, Laura, to Bankton in England.”</p> - -<p>“The painter?”</p> - -<p>“The painter. We’ve been married two years.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I am not unhappy,” said Carla, knowing that this was no -answer but she hoped that Holton would grasp her meaning.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,” said Laura Whitner almost undramatically. “I -married again, you know.”</p> - -<p>“I heard you did. Is he here tonight? I used to know -him.”</p> - -<p>“He couldn’t come, he’s working on a show. Are you going -to have children?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think so.”</p> - -<p>“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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> -a hand that shook. “If I’m not too old I’m going to make a -child. I think that’s what I need.”</p> - -<p>“You must be very happy with him.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Who is this?” asked Laura Whitner, turning to Holton, -making love to him automatically with her face.</p> - -<p>“This,” said Carla, “is Robert Holton, an old friend of -mine. We knew each other in Florence during the war.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed!” She lifted her thin brows and made her mouth -very round. Holton blushed and Carla wanted to protect -him.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Have you really, child? Thank you.” She made a gesture -that was intended for an entire audience but it was still very -graceful.</p> - -<p>“You must,” said Carla, “call me up and we’ll get together. -I’m staying at the Mason.”</p> - -<p>“I shall, of course. Tell me....” At this moment Mrs Raymond -Stevanson appeared to capture Laura.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“We’ll have lunch,” said Laura, calling back over her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> -shoulder as she was borne away by the conquering Mrs -Stevanson.</p> - -<p>“What did you think of her, Bob?” asked Carla.</p> - -<p>“She’s not as pretty as I thought she’d be.”</p> - -<p>“They never are; you must learn that.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Shall we sit down now, Bob?”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>On the other hand George <em>Robert</em> Lewis was not bored. -He was slightly drunk and enjoying himself very much. He -was usually overcome by a monstrous <em>ennui</em> during the day -which, as evening came, grew less and less. In a few more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Mrs Bankton?”</p> - -<p>She turned and looked at him and he rather liked her -brown-green eyes.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I’m George <em>Robert</em> Lewis ... you know <cite>Regarde</cite>, the -<em>avant garde</em> magazine, only it’s so trite now to call anything -<em>avant garde</em>. 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.”</p> - -<p>She smiled at him very nicely. “I’ve heard of you, Mr -Lewis. My husband thinks very highly of what your magazine -is doing.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span></p> - -<p>She took the “darling” quite well, he thought.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Very pleased to meet you, Mr Lewis,” said the young -man as they shook hands.</p> - -<p>“<i>Enchanté</i>,” 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....</p> - -<p>“What,” said Carla, “is <em>Regarde</em> espousing now?” She -spoke quickly and Lewis could see that she understood him -and this pleased him although, in a sense, they were rivals.</p> - -<p>“As always: the advanced, the revolutionary....”</p> - -<p>“And the honest?”</p> - -<p>“But of course, darling, we are never consciously dishonest, -though it <em>is</em> hard sometimes not being.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps in life but not in art.” She spoke severely. She -was a Latin; he could tell now from her accent.</p> - -<p>“You’re not English?” He changed the subject.</p> - -<p>“No, I’m a Florentine.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“And <em>you</em> have been to Florence?”</p> - -<p>Holton nodded.</p> - -<p>Carla said, “That was where we met the first time. He’s an -old friend of our family’s.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“They <em>are</em> dull. I wonder why people come. Why do you -come?”</p> - -<p>“I’m a creature in constant need of companionship. I go -to everything. I <em>must</em> see a lot of people or I become most -dreadfully morbid and then I write poems.”</p> - -<p>She smiled. “I remember you used to write some good -poems.”</p> - -<p>He laughed, pleased. “You remember then? That was so -long ago. I somehow have gotten all out of the habit.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you see too many people.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid,” said Carla, “that we can’t....”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“You must really join me. I know of the most interesting -place in the Village. I know you’ll love it.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you want to go?” asked Holton, looking at Carla.</p> - -<p>“Why....” She didn’t know what to say.</p> - -<p>“Certainly you’ll come; three is good company.”</p> - -<p>Carla gestured uncertainly with her hands.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span></p> - -<p>As he withdrew he could see the long look Carla gave the -young man.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> -much for this corresponding loneliness as for anything else. -He had been mistaken three times but he was, in general, -an optimist.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Mr Heywood approached Holton from behind and he -could overhear his conversation with a dark pretty woman.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“No, Carla....” Mr Heywood drifted between them now.</p> - -<p>“Mr Holton?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I had thought ...” began Mr Heywood in a barely audible -voice.</p> - -<p>“This,” said Holton quickly on top of Mr Heywood’s -words, “is Mrs Bankton, an old friend of mine. Mr Heywood.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p> - -<p>The meeting was made and Mr Heywood was rather attracted -to this pretty girl who spoke English so beautifully -and yet with an accent.</p> - -<p>“I thought I should find you here, Mr Holton. Mrs Stevanson -was telling me about you.”</p> - -<p>“That was nice of her.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Oh, very much,” said Holton.</p> - -<p>“By the way,” asked the dark pretty woman, “what are -you doing now? You haven’t told me.”</p> - -<p>Holton flushed and Mr Heywood was sorry for him. “I’m -working in a brokerage office.”</p> - -<p>She laughed. “But how dreadful that must be.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,” she said. “I had no idea you were also in the -same situation.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span></p> - -<p>“In spite of one’s duty to others?”</p> - -<p>“People that you love?”</p> - -<p>“No, that I ... that one admires and respects.”</p> - -<p>“And this makes you happy?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I talked,” he said casually, “with Murphy about you today. -He seemed most enthusiastic.”</p> - -<p>“That’s nice. I like working with him.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>George <em>Robert</em> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“How do you do?” said Lewis, bowing very low and -smirking at him.</p> - -<p>“And how are you?” inquired Mr Heywood politely, beginning -to retreat slowly.</p> - -<p>“Doing marvelously. These charming people here are dining -with me, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>Carla looked uncertain and Holton nodded. Mr Heywood -wondered where Holton had run across Lewis.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I see,” said Mr Heywood. He turned to Carla. “Delighted -to have met you.” He nodded to Holton. “I shall probably -see you tomorrow.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; good night, sir.” Mr Heywood glided away toward -the door.</p> - -<p>Mrs Stevanson appeared beside him just as he had made -up his mind to leave.</p> - -<p>“Do cheer up, Heywood. You look so petulant!”</p> - -<p>“I’m not really, Helena, not really.”</p> - -<p>“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 <em>Robert’s</em> got her, too. The poor -child and...” Mrs Stevanson was surprised. “I do think -they’re leaving!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span></p> - -<p>“After all,” said Heywood soothingly, “it <em>is</em> a cocktail -party. They probably weren’t able to find you.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose you’re right, Heywood. Manners change so. -She looked rather unhappy, I thought.”</p> - -<p>“Who?”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Bankton.”</p> - -<p>“Really. I didn’t notice.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Helena.” He bowed without movement; he -suggested a bow without actually executing it. “Now I must -really be going.”</p> - -<p>“So soon, Heywood, so soon?”</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><em>Chapter Ten</em></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="p2">Carla was angry with Robert Holton, angrier still with -George <em>Robert</em> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She sighed loudly so that she would be heard and understood.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> -Then she looked out the window and examined the -neon signs that broke the darkness with many colors. She -liked the lights.</p> - -<p>The taxicab stopped on a side street where a dozen or -more signs advertised night clubs. They got out and Lewis -paid the driver.</p> - -<p>“Where is it?” asked Holton, looking about him.</p> - -<p>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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Lewis led them down the steps and into the night club.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t this charming?” asked Lewis. “I think it has a wonderful -atmosphere.” He grinned at Carla. She nodded.</p> - -<p>“It’s not too garish,” she said. “So many American places -are too light.”</p> - -<p>“Do they have a floor show?” asked Holton.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span></p> - -<p>“Is that right?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I’d love something to drink,” said Lewis. “How about the -rest of you?”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve been dreadfully busy,” said Lewis coldly, disengaging -himself from the waiter’s assumed relationship.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad they’re gone,” said Carla. “They make too much -music.”</p> - -<p>“They aren’t very delicate.” Lewis turned suddenly to -Holton. “And you, what do you do?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span></p> - -<p>Holton flushed. “Well, I work in a brokerage house.”</p> - -<p>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?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I think it might be to the artist,” said Carla softly.</p> - -<p>Lewis bowed. “<em>Touché</em>, 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.</p> - -<p>“Some things you have to accept,” said Holton, aware of -Lewis’s mockery. “Sometimes there is nothing else.”</p> - -<p>“There is always something else,” said Lewis decidedly.</p> - -<p>“I think that’s right,” said Carla.</p> - -<p>“What?” asked Holton. “What else can you do but that?”</p> - -<p>“Run away,” said Lewis.</p> - -<p>“Fall in love,” said Carla.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Finally their silence killed the problem and they began<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>Robert</em> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“He’s a funny little queer, isn’t he?” commented Holton.</p> - -<p>“He’s one of the great aesthetes. You’re glad you came tonight?”</p> - -<p>“It’s interesting,” he said. He was defending himself now.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span></p> - -<p>“This is a very ...” she paused, trying to think of the right -word, “trivial world. I don’t think you’ll like it.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps I will. I used to be something of a sculptor.” He -said this laughing, and she could see that he was quite -serious.</p> - -<p>“Then why don’t you do it?”</p> - -<p>“I wasn’t good enough. I haven’t done any since I was in -college.”</p> - -<p>“Would you like to do it?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think so.” She couldn’t tell whether he meant this -or not.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want this,” said Carla, pointing to the glass.</p> - -<p>“I’ll take it,” said Holton and he began to drink his own, -his teeth making clicking sounds as the ice bobbed against -them.</p> - -<p>“You like what you’re doing now?” asked Carla.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you might find something you like better.”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“You might be a sculptor again.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span></p> - -<p>“But you’re not in love?”</p> - -<p>“What has that to do with it?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Would you like to dance?” asked Holton.</p> - -<p>“Not right now.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?” said Holton finally.</p> - -<p>“Yes, but I haven’t forgotten any of it, have you?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t,” said Carla, “love Bankton.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span></p> - -<p>He was shocked and she knew that she had said the right -thing if in the wrong manner.</p> - -<p>“But you got married,” said Holton.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you divorce him then?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps I shall someday. It seems so much trouble, -though. He’s really a very nice person.”</p> - -<p>Holton shook his head, confused. “I don’t see ... I don’t -see why he married you in the first place if he was....”</p> - -<p>“He could still like me, Bob.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see how.”</p> - -<p>She smiled. “It <em>is</em> hard to explain but anyway you know -now that I don’t feel too deeply about him. You understand -this?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so,” said Robert Holton. He <em>is</em> beginning to -understand, thought Carla, happy now: her words had -begun to build the bridge between them. Soon they would -meet again.</p> - -<p>“You’ve certainly had a funny life,” said Holton, smiling.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>He nodded. “Sometimes I know.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p> - -<p>She picked up a fork and drew pictures on the white -tablecloth. “I want you to be free,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Free from what?”</p> - -<p>“You know. From your routine and morals: the things you -don’t want.”</p> - -<p>He laughed. “You know pretty well what my set of morals -is and I don’t mind the routine so much.”</p> - -<p>“I think you do.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“Why did you want to come here with Lewis tonight? -Why are you with me now?”</p> - -<p>He smiled. “Perhaps you’re partly right. I was curious and -I do get bored and....”</p> - -<p>“And you’re alone.” She spoke for him.</p> - -<p>He finished his drink and did not answer her; there was -no need to answer her.</p> - -<p>“Are you glad,” she asked at last, “are you glad to see me -again?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>George <em>Robert</em> Lewis had a very pleasant interview with -de Bianca, the star; after a half-hour, though, he was beginning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> -to get restless. Dancers seldom talked about anything -interesting. Finally he excused himself, saying that his guests -were waiting for him.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The dinner finally ordered, he turned toward his guests, -a white-toothed smile on his slightly rouged lips (Hermes -had lent him rouge).</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Are there many places like this in New York?” asked Holton.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Oh, quite a few, quite a few. They <em>are</em> 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.</p> - -<p>“I’ve heard about these places,” said Holton without much -expression.</p> - -<p>“Surely you don’t disapprove?” Lewis was intent on discovering -this now. He could see that Carla was uneasy. Holton -was unsatisfactory, though.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>Robert</em> Lewis thought pleasantly of -young men.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>She looked at him as though she had forgotten him completely. -“In Fiesole? I was there just a year ago.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span></p> - -<p>“I think it will,” said Carla.</p> - -<p>“Europe must’ve been very nice before the war,” said -Holton.</p> - -<p>George <em>Robert</em> 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.</p> - -<p>“I hope you enjoy it,” said the waiter spitefully, putting -the dishes down loudly and angrily. He walked away, his -duty done.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“When,” asked Robert Holton, after the main part of the -dinner had been eaten, “will the show start?”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“He is quite probably the sort of dancer you think he is,” -said Lewis, smiling, excluding Holton from his words. “The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> -only difference is that he is a great artist, interpretive artist, -I mean. I know you’ll appreciate him.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, my dear, that I didn’t introduce you to those -people. It was rude of me because they <em>all</em> admire your husband’s -work.”</p> - -<p>“That’s perfectly all right,” said Carla. “I know so little -about his work. I’m only a layman, you know.”</p> - -<p>“I can hardly believe that. You must’ve been an artist -yourself at one time.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“That’s for the talented, Mr Lewis, but for the rest of us, -the majority, only our lives count. We must make them -natural.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span></p> - -<p>“And that,” said Robert Holton suddenly, “is for the rich -to do. The rest of us can’t even do that.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A slender little man, ineptly painted, appeared on the -stage and welcomed the audience to the night club.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>When their dance was finished they left. There was much -noise from the audience.</p> - -<p>Then a thin young man swayed onto the stage, took the -microphone in his hands and sang a sexual funny song.</p> - -<p>“Who is that?” asked Carla, turning to Lewis.</p> - -<p>“Our waiter, darling,” whispered Lewis; “all the performers -are waiters, too. Isn’t it exciting?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Their waiter was so well received that he sang another -song.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t think she is,” said Holton seriously. “I don’t -think she was good at all, did you?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, I thought she had something. A certain ... -how shall I say ... banked fire?”</p> - -<p>“I agree with Bob,” said Carla. “I don’t think she’s a savage; -I don’t think she’s natural.”</p> - -<p>“Just prejudice,” said Lewis lightly, gesturing with his -hand. “Just prejudice; anyway, the girls here love her.” He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> -pointed to a table of women. The dancer, wearing a dressing -gown now, was sitting on the lap of one.</p> - -<p>Holton chuckled.</p> - -<p>“What amuses you?” asked Lewis but Holton wouldn’t -answer him.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Softly the orchestra played.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>A long sigh came from the audience as he appeared and -began to dance.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Methodically he danced. With an obscene grace he moved -about the stage, moved like a yielding woman exulting in -her passivity.</p> - -<p>His face:</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The music then became sad and, as it did, his dance became -slower, more sensual. His wide painted mouth was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>He moved with great lightness, handling his heaviness -gracefully as he advanced upon the moon, making love to -the mask.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And then, as the music reached a climax, he whirled in the -center of the stage, violent, obscene in a desire to be possessed.</p> - -<p>The music stopped.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Smiling, he walked in triumph off the stage.</p> - -<p>The lights were turned on at last and the orchestra played -a popular song.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“What do you think of that?” asked Lewis.</p> - -<p>He was breathing quickly, Carla noticed. His face was -flushed and he was excited, more excited than she had -thought he could possibly be.</p> - -<p>“It is very ... erotic,” she said, knowing how inadequate -that word was.</p> - -<p>Holton was sweating when she turned to ask him what he -thought. He looked angry.</p> - -<p>“Did you like it, Bob?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“You don’t care for this?” Carla asked.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“There are many a lot worse, said Carla. Of course I’m -used to it. You see my husband is....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span></p> - -<p>He smiled. “I guess you were right about not coming -here.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t regret it?”</p> - -<p>“It’s interesting.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He frowned and looked very serious and she was happy -to see him concerned. “Can’t you leave him, can’t you leave -Bankton?”</p> - -<p>“Where would I go? He’s a charming person and I like -him. I’d have to find someone else before I could leave.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said, not understanding her, “I see what you -mean.”</p> - -<p>George <em>Robert</em> Lewis returned leading Hermes, still in -costume, by the hand.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Carla was puzzled. “You mean he’s going to Italy?”</p> - -<p>“No, darling, he’s becoming a Roman Catholic. Isn’t it -the most thrilling thing!”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so,” she said. “I used to be a Catholic myself.”</p> - -<p>“What happened?” asked Hermes in a lisping little girl’s -voice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span></p> - -<p>“I seemed to’ve gotten out of the idea. I married a Protestant, -of course.”</p> - -<p>“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 <em>something</em> in it.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps there is,” said Carla. “I think in Italy we take -the Church too much for granted.”</p> - -<p>“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 -<em>have</em> 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....”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you’ve never given enough of yourself to another -person,” said Carla.</p> - -<p>“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?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“How beautiful!” exclaimed Hermes. “But that’s why we -all have to go to Rome.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Bob and I have to go now,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you must stay a little longer,” he pleaded.</p> - -<p>“We really have to go,” said Holton, rising. They thanked -him (Lewis insisted on paying the bill) and said good-bye. -George <em>Robert</em> Lewis was still talking to Hermes as they -left.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><em>Chapter Eleven</em></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="p2">“How cool it is!” said Carla, as they walked along the -street. “I couldn’t breathe in there.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>They decided to walk uptown, to walk to Times Square.</p> - -<p>Carla felt light and happy now that Lewis had been left -behind.</p> - -<p>“I like the air in New York,” she said.</p> - -<p>“The air?”</p> - -<p>“It’s exciting and silly and everyone is busy doing things -they don’t want to do but still it’s stimulating.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so.”</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“How long are you going to be in town?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I’d like to see him.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>They crossed more streets, dodged more cars, bumped -into more and more people and, finally, they came to Times -Square.</p> - -<p>At Forty-second Street they stopped and Carla looked at -the lights for a long time.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> -colored bulbs of light: everything was so large, so magnificent, -so desperately appealing.</p> - -<p>“Such wonderful strength,” murmured Carla, “so much -misguided energy.”</p> - -<p>“It’s very nice to look at,” said Robert Holton, speaking -self-consciously for America.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> -came out, blinking their eyes, adjusting themselves -to reality.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What a place!” said Carla. “So <em>much</em> is here. Is this the -dream Lewis was talking about?”</p> - -<p>“Maybe.”</p> - -<p>“I think,” said Carla, laughing, “this is the peak of your -civilization.”</p> - -<p>“Probably; it’s the sign of the century.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span></p> - -<p>Marjorie Ventusa was the center now of laughing people -and her eyes were dazzled by changing lights.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Want a smoke?”</p> - -<p>She shook her head. “No, thanks.”</p> - -<p>He took one himself and lighted it. He inhaled to show -how calm he was and then he said, “You want to walk -maybe?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>Setting her face, she walked into the marble and gold -lobby. She walked, conscious of a thousand nonexistent eyes -watching her back.</p> - -<p>Then she entered the darkened hall of the movie. On the -screen two characters, simulating love, were laughing loudly. -Marjorie Ventusa was trapped.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>From Fifth Avenue they walked along Forty-Seventh -Street until, finally, they came to the square. Trebling -blinked.</p> - -<p>“It’s the damnedest sight! I don’t think it can compare -with L.A. but there really is something wonderful about it.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“What?” He hadn’t been listening to her. “Why do I ...<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> -stare? I just like to look at them and see what they’re so -busy rushing around for.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you know?”</p> - -<p>“No, do you?”</p> - -<p>“Well....” She hesitated, uncertain of her meaning, uncertain -of what they were talking about.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Bob used to talk a lot about this part of town, about -Broadway. I think he used to like it a lot,” said Trebling.</p> - -<p>“Is that right?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, sure. He was a playboy during the war.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span></p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“I think,” said Trebling, “that people sometimes feel they -have to change to protect themselves. He’s just making a -new life now.”</p> - -<p>“He’s certainly making a dull one.”</p> - -<p>“Not if it’s what he wants.”</p> - -<p>“Imagine working in an office if you could do something -else!”</p> - -<p>“What about yourself?”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“You could get married.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose I could.” Purposely she left it at that. He didn’t -ask her anything else. They watched the square.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Come on, Jim,” she said, “let’s go find the dance hall.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span> -the most fascinating man she knew and not at all like his -dull friend Robert Holton.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t been here for so long,” she said.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>His car stopped in front of him. The chauffeur got out, -opened the door and said something to him and Mr Heywood<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Finally they left the square.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What’s so funny?”</p> - -<p>“Your face ... you look like Mephisto.” He smiled and -stepped out of the red light and stood beside her.</p> - -<p>“What do you think of it now?” asked Holton as they -stood on their island, watching.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span></p> - -<p>“The things I’ve always thought. It’s very brilliant. It is -a ... production.”</p> - -<p>“Everyone comes to see it.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“An unfriendly one, though.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What a place to make a decision,” he said firmly, turning -to look at her.</p> - -<p>“A decision?” She was not sure of him now; not sure of -the magic. “What sort of decision?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you later.”</p> - -<p>“If you like.” She could see that he was not ready to talk -to her yet. The signs were good, though. He was returning.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Where do you want to go?” asked Holton.</p> - -<p>“Back to my hotel,” she said, not looking at him.</p> - -<p>“Shall I go with you?”</p> - -<p>“Do you want to?” She noticed that one of the largest -signs had several dead lights in it.</p> - -<p>“Of course I want to,” he said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span></p> - -<p>She was very happy then. The bridge was completed.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><em>Chapter Twelve</em></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="p2">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.</p> - -<p>“I’m down here,” said Carla, taking a key out of her bag. -She led him down the corridor.</p> - -<p>She stopped, unlocked a door, and they went inside.</p> - -<p>“In America you always try to make everything look expensive,” -she said. “But I like this room.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Bankton must have a lot of money,” murmured Holton.</p> - -<p>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?”</p> - -<p>“If you want one.”</p> - -<p>While she fixed his drink she would be able to think of -the right thing to say. She felt constrained still and her heart<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Tell me,” she said, sitting back in the couch, “what do -you do during the days? What does a broker do?”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“How long are you going to have to do that?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“You would like that?”</p> - -<p>“It means more money and it’s going to be my career.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right; it’s going to be your career.”</p> - -<p>Holton crossed his legs, using the movement to give himself -time to think. Carla waited, watching him.</p> - -<p>“Are you going to live in Florence?” he asked finally.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“Where? Where do you want to go?”</p> - -<p>“Some place in the Near East, some place like the <em>Arabian -Nights</em>—you’ve read it, haven’t you?”</p> - -<p>“I read it once.”</p> - -<p>“I always wanted things to be like that, to be enchanted.”</p> - -<p>“And you’ve been disappointed?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span></p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“What we had.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, what we had.” She felt that now he was coming -back again.</p> - -<p>“It was so long ago, wasn’t it?” She wasn’t sure now that -he was coming back: “so long ago.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve remembered it,” she said. “It doesn’t seem long ago -to me.”</p> - -<p>“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....”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He was awkward now. “Yes, I guess I was. I didn’t....”</p> - -<p>“There were probably a lot of others for you in Europe. -You know, I haven’t really wanted any man since then.”</p> - -<p>This had to surprise; she wanted this to be her strongest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> -weapon. She looked at him now. He had put down his drink -and he was looking at her.</p> - -<p>“Is that true?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You mean what happened to us in Italy was the only -time...?” He was confused.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,” he said.</p> - -<p>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 <em>you</em> again.” She had said everything now. He had -listened and there was nothing else she could do.</p> - -<p>He ran his hand through his hair. “I was very close to -you,” he said.</p> - -<p>“I thought you were.” She was waiting.</p> - -<p>“You’re right, there were a lot of others, but I don’t think -I loved any of them.”</p> - -<p>“No one at all?”</p> - -<p>He didn’t answer. He stood up and walked across the -room. Then he came back and stood looking down at her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Tonight those people were examples of freedom....”</p> - -<p>She interrupted him. “Not really freedom, self-indulgence -perhaps.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“You can be a free person, though.”</p> - -<p>“How?”</p> - -<p>She sighed. “I’ve already told you and you already know. -You can love.”</p> - -<p>“You think that’s the answer?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know any other. It’s been important to me.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“You can,” said Carla. “You can do whatever you want.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>For a long time they were like that on the couch. Then -they separated and stood up, self-conscious and shy, newly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> -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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>He helped her to undo her dress. Modestly now, with the -reserve of strangers, they stood back to back as they undressed.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Carla walked slowly toward him and touched his shoulder. -Tears were in her eyes.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” he asked.</p> - -<p>She shook her head and smiled: nothing was the matter -now.</p> - -<p>He took her slowly then, pressing her against his body -gently, every nerve vibrating in both of them; hearts beating -quickly.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And Robert Holton became the lover and ceased to be -himself; his detached awareness was, for the time, submerged -and forgotten.</p> - -<p>He ran his hands over her, feeling the smooth skin of her -shoulders, her thighs.... They kissed and began the act of -completion.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Then the rhythm was found and the wild twistings and -strugglings stopped. He was conquering now and, in the -conquering, giving.</p> - -<p>He entered her and to the rhythm of their fast-beating<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>There was no time now. There was no memory. There was -no reason. The struggle stopped and the moment came like -fire.</p> - -<p>Carla’s face was buried in his shoulder; she stiffened and -then became relaxed, the battle finished and won.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span></p> - -<p>Silence and darkness protected them.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>They slept quietly in each others arms. They slept unaware -of time for they <em>were</em> time.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“<em>Caro mio</em>,” she murmured, saying the first words either -had spoken.</p> - -<p>“Darling,” he whispered.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>He felt her smooth legs. They were cool, like dreams -half-remembered.</p> - -<p>“I love you,” she whispered into his ear, “so much more -than you know.”</p> - -<p>He kissed her for answer and his detached self almost -fused with hers, almost made a union, almost died and made -him free.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span></p> - -<p>Carla turned on the light. It was two o’clock and they had -been asleep for almost an hour.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Happy?” she asked.</p> - -<p>He nodded. “I’ve never had it like this before,” he said. -“It never meant as much to me as this.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What are you thinking?” he asked and she saw that he’d -been watching her.</p> - -<p>“Nothing, Bob. I don’t think all the time, you know. I was -only feeling.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span></p> - -<p>“Feeling what?”</p> - -<p>She smiled. “Feeling all the world.”</p> - -<p>“I think I felt that, too ... to live in a big way....”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know.” She sighed. “You have to break all your -little patterns. You have to expand now.”</p> - -<p>But there was resistance to this. “I don’t see why you can’t -have everything and still have that, too.”</p> - -<p>“No, everything must be the richest and the fullest. Have -you that?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter, Bob?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” he said. He was looking at her, his dark -hair in his eyes. He pushed it back.</p> - -<p>“You’re not sad?”</p> - -<p>“No.” He ran his hands over her hips. “I was only wondering -what’s to happen next. You’ll go back to Europe.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“Then your husband’ll come over here.”</p> - -<p>“I can leave him.”</p> - -<p>He shook his head. “I couldn’t marry you.”</p> - -<p>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:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> -the answer had been made. She tried not to let her face -show what she felt.</p> - -<p>“Why couldn’t you marry me?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t any money.”</p> - -<p>“I have.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t want that. You wouldn’t want to be married -to a broker and live in New York.”</p> - -<p>“Why do you have to be a broker?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“You can break with all this.” She was fighting.</p> - -<p>“But what could I do? I have to do something. I have to -be something.”</p> - -<p>“Why do you have to be something? Why do you have to -do things that you don’t want, that make you unhappy?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>He went on talking and she answered him but there was -nothing left for either of them to discuss.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“That was funny, wasn’t it?” chuckled Holton.</p> - -<p>“What? What was funny?”</p> - -<p>“Lewis tonight and all those people talking about religion -and art.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span></p> - -<p>“I don’t think it was funny; I think it was sad.”</p> - -<p>“Why sad?”</p> - -<p>“They were lost, I think. Just like us, Bob.”</p> - -<p>She could feel him looking at her. “Are you?” he asked -softly.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>She sighed. “That’s such a superficial thing; that’s all the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> -surface. When you feel something for another person those -things don’t matter.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know I wouldn’t be happy here?”</p> - -<p>“You’re different, that’s all. I can’t tell you what the difference -is. I don’t know.”</p> - -<p>And she couldn’t tell him what the difference was. There -was no way to tell.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“It’s a temptation,” said Holton suddenly.</p> - -<p>“What is?” They separated.</p> - -<p>“To go to Europe with you, to live with you.”</p> - -<p>“It could be done.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe.... No, it wouldn’t work.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“It just wouldn’t be practical.”</p> - -<p>No, she thought, it wouldn’t be practical.</p> - -<p>Then the passion came back to them and she almost forgot -his withdrawal. She fell back onto the pillows, his body -over hers.</p> - -<p>He whispered in her ear, “You know I really have to leave -after this.”</p> - -<p>“Of course you must,” said Carla, dying gently.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span></p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class="half-title">3<br /> -THE YELLOW WOOD</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span></p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak"><em>Chapter Thirteen</em></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="p2">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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He came at last to a subway entrance. He breathed -deeply, took a last breath of clean air and went down inside -the ground.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Robert Holton put his nickel in the turnstile.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> -strange little movements with their heads and hands, slow-motion -movements, as though they were flying.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Evening,” said the clerk behind the desk.</p> - -<p>“Good evening,” said Holton.</p> - -<p>“Is it getting colder out?”</p> - -<p>Holton nodded. “Probably be a real cold day tomorrow.” -He walked over to the counter. “Have I got any mail?”</p> - -<p>“Let’s see ... that’s...?”</p> - -<p>“Holton.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span></p> - -<p>The clerk looked, then shook his head. “No mail, Mr Holton.” -He paused. “You was in the army?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I was in the army.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s good to be out.”</p> - -<p>“I was with the 82nd; you remember the 82nd, don’t -you?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I do.”</p> - -<p>“We had a good group of guys.”</p> - -<p>“I know you did.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing like being a civilian, is there?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Robert Holton, “there’s nothing like being out. -Good night.”</p> - -<p>“Good night.” The clerk who had been with the army was -sad to see him go.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He gave up finally. The barriers went down.</p> - -<p>George <em>Robert</em> 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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>George <em>Robert</em> Lewis began to talk again.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Love? What <em>does</em> that word mean, darling? I’ve tried so -awfully hard to be sincere about it and I’ve had some delicious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> -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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Well, to get back to my point, on the <em>deepest</em> 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.</p> - -<p>“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....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Robert Holton wanted to sleep but there were so many -things that had to be arranged first.</p> - -<p>There was also the dream of the night before to be recalled. -He would think of that later.</p> - -<p>He remembered Jim Trebling. He thought of the days on -the boat when they had talked about the future.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>And Robert Holton had agreed. He agreed in those days.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span></p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>Holton agreed.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>There was a problem, still unsolved: what did he want?</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>That wasn’t true, he was always plotting; most of the -time, anyway.</p> - -<p>“You try to be like everybody else.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> -wouldn’t. Perhaps he was like Heywood. That wasn’t bad. -Heywood was a success. <em>He</em> could be free if he liked. He had -money and he could do whatever he liked.</p> - -<p>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 ...”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Trebling’s voice was lost.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Now she began to speak again. She had talked to him as -he was dressing.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He had tried to deny this but he could not deny what he -felt.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span></p> - -<p>“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....”</p> - -<p>Again the denial and again the sad voice whispering.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>That was true, of course. There was also more.</p> - -<p>She walked with him to the door; she let him go free to -his chosen prison.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The shade of the window fluttered in the outside wind. -Bits of light gleamed around the shade as it fluttered. Lights<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> -from signs and behind those lights, gray and massive, was -the light of early morning. The room grew colder.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Robert Holton made a case for himself as he lay in the -occasionally broken dark.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> -bothered him. In the army he had been without care, without -ambition; he had been like Trebling.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Robert Holton would become a successful broker working -in an office.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>He stopped twisting. The fever was leaving and he was -tired.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The dream.</p> - -<p>He hadn’t been able to remember the dream of the night -before: the troubling, unpleasant dream. It had great significance, -he knew.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><em>Chapter Fourteen</em></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="p2">The next day was cold, colder than the early morning -had been.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, Mr Holton,” she said, and smiled.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Marjorie. How’s everything going?”</p> - -<p>“Fine, just fine. Weather’s getting cold, though.” She noticed -that he had dark circles under his eyes. She tried not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> -to think of what he might have been doing with the dark-haired -girl.</p> - -<p>“Got anything good for breakfast? I feel pretty worn out -today.”</p> - -<p>“I guess you were out late last night.”</p> - -<p>He nodded. She couldn’t stop asking now; she couldn’t -stop thinking about Robert Holton and the dark-haired girl.</p> - -<p>“Probably one of those big parties, I guess.”</p> - -<p>He nodded and said, “Sure, one of those big parties.”</p> - -<p>She was not sorry that he lied. “We got some good sausage -today,” she said.</p> - -<p>“I’ll take whatever you got ... and black coffee.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>His breakfast was ready and she took it out to him.</p> - -<p>She made herself busy at the next table and she talked to -him as she worked.</p> - -<p>“You like going out to them big parties?”</p> - -<p>“Not so much.”</p> - -<p>“Why do you go?”</p> - -<p>“Business, I guess. It’s good to see all the big shots.”</p> - -<p>“You’re right there; you’re sure right there.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span></p> - -<p>“What’s that you got on your head?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Looks nice,” said Holton seriously, biting into a piece of -bread.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He ate then and she put dirty dishes on her tray. Then he -said, “When’re you going to Italy with me?”</p> - -<p>She laughed. “I got some previous engagements before. -Any other time, though.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Maybe we’ll go some other time,” she said.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“See you at lunch, Mr Holton.” She watched him go out -the door and into the crowded street.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span></p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I like him quite a bit,” she said.</p> - -<p>He looked at her. “Good,” he said. “Jim’s a fine fellow. -You’ll have fun playing around with him.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose I will.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“That’s a good thing to want,” said Holton. How dull he -is, thought Caroline, comparing him unfavorably with Jim -Trebling.</p> - -<p>There was nothing she wanted to know from Holton. -“How was your society party?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“It was O.K.,” said Holton. “It was interesting.”</p> - -<p>I’ll bet, thought Caroline. She was impatient of others now<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“Better be careful,” said Holton seriously.</p> - -<p>She laughed. “I’m always careful; didn’t you know that?”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>A buzz came out of the box on his desk. He pressed a -button.</p> - -<p>“Mr Murphy to see you,” said his secretary, concealed in -the box.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, Murphy.” Mr Heywood did not bother -to rise.</p> - -<p>“Morning, Mr Heywood,” said Murphy and Heywood -wished his voice wasn’t so loud. It jarred the twilight mood -of the office.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got some statistics here, the ones on Steel stocks; the -ones showing fluctuation and ...”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span></p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Murphy judiciously, “yes, I think that might -be a good place for him. You saw him last night?”</p> - -<p>“What? Oh, yes, I saw him last night. I had a pleasant -talk with him. He’s a clever young man, I think.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he’s got a good head on his shoulders,” agreed -Murphy.</p> - -<p>“You will tell him, won’t you, about his promotion and, -ah, transfer?”</p> - -<p>“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....”</p> - -<p>“And what is that?” asked Heywood gently, trying not to -yawn.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Heywood sighed. “Certainly, Murphy; I rely, as always, -on your recommendation in these cases.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you....” They talked then of nothing that interested -Mr Heywood. Finally Murphy left.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> -younger now than he did when the photograph was taken -several years before.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Congratulations,” he said as he came over to Holton’s -desk. Mr Murphy had already gone to lunch and it was safe -to talk.</p> - -<p>“Thanks,” said Holton, smiling. He didn’t seem as happy -as Kuppelton expected him to be.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“The first of next week probably.” Holton chuckled. “I -guess you’ll be sorry to see me leave.”</p> - -<p>Kuppelton recognized the sarcasm but he didn’t care. -“Sure I’m sorry. Of course, it’s good news, in a way, for me.”</p> - -<p>“It is at that.”</p> - -<p>“You sure got a good deal. Well, you can’t beat City Hall -I always say.”</p> - -<p>“You always say that?”</p> - -<p>“What? Well, no, but.... What I meant was....”</p> - -<p>Robert Holton only laughed.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN A YELLOW WOOD ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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