What about Carter? Whit? Bob Herrmann (who was a fool, but had a life and was leading it)? What about the wives of the men he liked? Those men, many of whom could have hated him and probably did hate him, must have told their wives. Jean Ogden, for instance. She d known all along that Froggy hated him, but never gave any sign of warning. Did Kitty Hofman s bad manners come from the assurance she got from knowing that Whit hated him? ... And if it only was hate! It would be so much better hate than just being disliked and held in contempt. It came back again to women; the fellows, those who knew him best, had kidded him about his Polish friend. But all the time they had kidded him they were being moral, and all the time they were being moral, underneath that they were wishing they had Mary. But Mary had been his girl. He closed the door of the garage. Mary had been his girl and he got again the sensation of looking at her. Just for a second the sensation came back; the embarrassment he had felt so many times, with wanting to look at her beautiful body but with his eyes held by her quiet, shining smile until then she would look at her breasts and then look at him and the smile would be gone. And he was sure now of what he had not quite wanted to be sure of then: that Mary had loved him and never would love anyone else the same way. He put her out of his mind and went in the house and sat down and stretched out on the couch in front of the fireplace. Oh, he went to sleep, wishing he knew more things. It was dark and one hand of the clock was on ten, but Julian could not be sure that it was the big hand or the little hand and he was too comfortable to move so he could see his watch. Then he knew why he was awake. The doorbell was ringing. He got up and ran his fingers through his hair and pulled his vest and coat around and fixed his tie. It could have been Caroline at the door. The girl was about the same height. But when he got closer he saw she was wearing glasses. He opened the door and the air was good. Oh, good evening, Mr. English. I m Miss Cartwright from the Standard. I m sorry to disturb you. I thought you were having a party.
It s been postponed. Won’t you come in?
Well, I don t think I ought to really. But that s news. She was confused by Julian s smile. I don t mean it s news when I don t come in.
Well, come on in and have a drink, he said. God knows why he wanted to talk to her, but she was somebody. Well, for a minute. I meant to say it s news if you’re not going to have the party. Is it postponed? Sickness in the family? Is Mrs. English not feeling well, or what?
No. I think you d better call Mrs. English at Mrs. Walker s. She’ll tell you about it.
Oh, dear, said Miss Cartwright, lighting a Spud. Now that means I have to get something to fill the column. I don t suppose I could run it and say the following will attend when is the party postponed to, Mr. English, or is it indefinitely?
Indefinitely, I think. Do you like Scotch or rye? Or would you rather have a Benedictine or something like that?
Rye and ginger ale, if you have it, she said. Is that your car outside? he said. My brother s. That is, it belongs to him and another boy. It s just an old flivver, on its last legs, but it saves me a lot of steps and trolley fares when he comes home. He always lends it to me when he s home, but he takes it to college with him. He goes to Brown.
Oh, Brown.
Yes. Providence, Rhode Island.
Yes, I ve been there.
Oh, did you go to Brown, Mr. English? There aren t many from around here go to Brown.
No. I went to Lafayette, but I ve been to Brown, just to visit.
Aren t you going to have one?
Yes, I think I will.
I hate to drink by myself. They say that s the sign of an insane person, when they drink alone.
That s probably one of those things started by the saloonkeepers. You know, like three on a match was started by the match trust in Sweden.
Oh, that s very interesting. I never heard that. Yes, I did. Come to think of it.
Won’t you take off your coat?
I really shouldn t. I can only stay a minute and get