But I’m sure I won’t need it.”
“I’ll take the taxi with Mr. Hazen,” Eleanor said. “I have a date on the East Side anyway.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Hazen said.
“Anyway,” Strand said, “I’ll go down with you and see you safely into the taxi. I wouldn’t want you to get another crack on the head between here and Central Park West.”
“As you say,” Hazen said. “Although, really, I hardly feel like an invalid.” As Eleanor went to get her bag and coat, Hazen said, “Good night, Miss Savior,” to Caroline, smiling, and bowed a little as he shook Leslie’s hand and said, “I won’t begin to try to tell you how grateful I am to you—to all of you…I hope we can meet again—under more—ah—normal circumstances.” He patted the turban on his head and looked down ruefully at his slashed leather windjacket. “My houseman is going to go into shock when he sees me.”
Downstairs, Strand and Hazen and Eleanor walked toward Central Park West. Strand could see that the man was peering at him intently.
“It seems to me, Mr. Strand,” he said, “that I’ve seen you someplace before tonight.”
“No,” Strand said, “I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”
“I didn’t say we’ve met,” Hazen said, with a touch of impatience. “I remember people I’ve met. It’s just that your face is somehow familiar.”
Strand shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t help you.”
“I don’t blame you for not recognizing me.” Hazen laughed. “My own mother wouldn’t recognize me, the way I look tonight. Ah—” He shrugged. “Eventually it will come to me!”
They walked in silence for a moment. Then Hazen touched Strand’s arm and said, with the utmost seriousness, “I must tell you something that perhaps I shouldn’t say—I envy you your family, sir. Beyond all measure.” He dropped his arm and they walked in silence. Then, as they reached a corner and saw a vacant taxi bearing down on them, he took a deep breath. “What a lovely night,” he said. “I have a very peculiar thing to tell you. I’ve enjoyed it, every minute of it.”
Strand lay in the big bed in the silent dark room, Leslie’s head cradled against his shoulder, her long hair soft against his skin. His delight in the beauty of his wife’s body and the exquisite use she made of it had never lessened from the first day of his marriage and as they had made love tonight, he had whispered, “I adore you.” What had been a long-desired pleasure had become, with the passage of the years, a passionate and overwhelming need. The peace he felt now, he knew as he lay in the silence, listening to her gentle breathing, would be deliciously broken once more by morning. Weekend.
He sighed contentedly.
“You awake?” Leslie asked drowsily.
“Just.”
“What did you and Eleanor mean when you said something about Greece?”
“That?” Strand said, barely remembering. “She told me she might go to a Greek island on her vacation. With a young man.”
“Oh,” Leslie said. “I suppose that’s what she meant when she told me it was girly talk.”
“I suppose so.”
Leslie was silent for a moment. Then she said, “Did she say who the young man might be?”
“No. She said he’d been to the island before.” Strand hesitated. “With another lady.”
“He said that?” Leslie sounded incredulous and moved away a little from him.
“He tells her everything, she says.”
Leslie shook her head slightly against Strand’s shoulder. “That’s a bad sign,” she said. “Especially if she believes it.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”
“Why doesn’t she bring him around so that we can get a look at him?” Leslie asked, a little annoyed.
“She’s not sure of him yet, she says.”
Leslie was silent again for a moment. “Do you think she’s in bed with him now—like us?”
“Not like us, surely.”
“She scares me a little,” Leslie said. “She’s too sure of herself.”
“Like
“I’ll take the taxi with Mr. Hazen,” Eleanor said. “I have a date on the East Side anyway.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Hazen said.
“Anyway,” Strand said, “I’ll go down with you and see you safely into the taxi. I wouldn’t want you to get another crack on the head between here and Central Park West.”
“As you say,” Hazen said. “Although, really, I hardly feel like an invalid.” As Eleanor went to get her bag and coat, Hazen said, “Good night, Miss Savior,” to Caroline, smiling, and bowed a little as he shook Leslie’s hand and said, “I won’t begin to try to tell you how grateful I am to you—to all of you…I hope we can meet again—under more—ah—normal circumstances.” He patted the turban on his head and looked down ruefully at his slashed leather windjacket. “My houseman is going to go into shock when he sees me.”
Downstairs, Strand and Hazen and Eleanor walked toward Central Park West. Strand could see that the man was peering at him intently.
“It seems to me, Mr. Strand,” he said, “that I’ve seen you someplace before tonight.”
“No,” Strand said, “I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”
“I didn’t say we’ve met,” Hazen said, with a touch of impatience. “I remember people I’ve met. It’s just that your face is somehow familiar.”
Strand shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t help you.”
“I don’t blame you for not recognizing me.” Hazen laughed. “My own mother wouldn’t recognize me, the way I look tonight. Ah—” He shrugged. “Eventually it will come to me!”
They walked in silence for a moment. Then Hazen touched Strand’s arm and said, with the utmost seriousness, “I must tell you something that perhaps I shouldn’t say—I envy you your family, sir. Beyond all measure.” He dropped his arm and they walked in silence. Then, as they reached a corner and saw a vacant taxi bearing down on them, he took a deep breath. “What a lovely night,” he said. “I have a very peculiar thing to tell you. I’ve enjoyed it, every minute of it.”
Strand lay in the big bed in the silent dark room, Leslie’s head cradled against his shoulder, her long hair soft against his skin. His delight in the beauty of his wife’s body and the exquisite use she made of it had never lessened from the first day of his marriage and as they had made love tonight, he had whispered, “I adore you.” What had been a long-desired pleasure had become, with the passage of the years, a passionate and overwhelming need. The peace he felt now, he knew as he lay in the silence, listening to her gentle breathing, would be deliciously broken once more by morning. Weekend.
He sighed contentedly.
“You awake?” Leslie asked drowsily.
“Just.”
“What did you and Eleanor mean when you said something about Greece?”
“That?” Strand said, barely remembering. “She told me she might go to a Greek island on her vacation. With a young man.”
“Oh,” Leslie said. “I suppose that’s what she meant when she told me it was girly talk.”
“I suppose so.”
Leslie was silent for a moment. Then she said, “Did she say who the young man might be?”
“No. She said he’d been to the island before.” Strand hesitated. “With another lady.”
“He said that?” Leslie sounded incredulous and moved away a little from him.
“He tells her everything, she says.”
Leslie shook her head slightly against Strand’s shoulder. “That’s a bad sign,” she said. “Especially if she believes it.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”
“Why doesn’t she bring him around so that we can get a look at him?” Leslie asked, a little annoyed.
“She’s not sure of him yet, she says.”
Leslie was silent again for a moment. “Do you think she’s in bed with him now—like us?”
“Not like us, surely.”
“She scares me a little,” Leslie said. “She’s too sure of herself.”
“Like
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