The Inheritors by Harold Robbins Page B

that it was local snobbery that led to the use of the word, selected, instead of selective.
    The one on the right read, PRUDENCE GAUNT. CLASSES IN PAINTING AND SCULPTURE FOR QUALIFIED STUDENTS. But in the end I learned that “selected” and “qualified” meant exactly the same thing to my Aunt Prue. There was still enough of New England left in her to select her guests and qualify her pupils on their ability to pay.
    Nancy leaned across me and pushed open the door on my side. I felt the firm press of her breast against my arm. She looked up into my face just at that moment and smiled. She made no move to straighten up. I could feel the flush crawl up my neck into my face.
    “You’re in the main building,” she said, straightening up finally. “Your aunt said you’re to take your bags right in.”
    I got out of the car and pulled my valise after me. “Thank you,” I said.
    “It was nothing,” she said. She put the car into gear again, but held the clutch before she started off. “The students live in the cottages behind the main house. I’m in number five if there’s anything you want.” Then she released the clutch and drove off around the house.
    I waited until the car disappeared and then went up the steps and into the house. The foyer was empty. I put the valise down and wondered where to go next. I heard the sound of voices coming from behind a closed door. I opened it and stepped in.
    The voice stopped suddenly and so did I. Four or five girls, standing in smocks behind easels, turned to look at me. I don’t remember even seeing them.
    The only thing I did see was a nude model standing on a small platform at the front of the class. I stood there with my jaw hanging. It was the first time I had ever seen a naked girl. I didn’t know whether to go or stay and if I did know I doubt that I would have been able to do either; I was frozen to the spot.
    “Close the door and sit down, Stephen, you’re creating a draft,” my Aunt Prue’s voice came sarcastically from the front of the room next to the model. “Class will be over in a few minutes.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    The night was warm and filled with good things. I rolled over on my back and looked up at Nancy. She was sitting against the headboard of the bed, her knees drawn up against her chest. In the dim light I could see the light and dark of her flesh where the bikini had covered her from the sun. The reefer glowed for a moment and I could see the somber introspection on her face.
    “Don’t be greedy,” I said. “Share the wealth.” I took the reefer from her fingers and dragged on it. The good things came even better.
    She took it back from me. I held the smoke inside me as long as I could, then I let it out slowly and rolled over, burying my face in her soft fur. I breathed deeply of the woman smell of her.
    “That does it for me,” I said. “More than all the pot put together.”
    She twisted my hair in her hands and turned my face up to her. She looked at me for a long time. I don’t know what she tried to see there, but when she let me go, the same somber look was still on her face.
    “You’re not there, Nancy,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
    For a moment, she was still, then she got out of bed. I could see her tiny brown nipples puckering as the cool air from the open window hit her breasts. “I never told you I was married, did I?” she asked hesitantly.
    “No,” I answered, sitting up in bed.
    “I should have.”
    “Why?”
    “Then things would have been different,” she said.
    “How?”
    “This might not have happened.”
    I thought that over for a moment. I didn’t understand her. The good things were still there. “Then I’m glad you didn’t tell me.”
    “He’s coming back tomorrow,” she said.
    “Who?” I asked.
    “My husband. His ship’s putting in at New London and I’m going down there to meet him.”
    “Oh,” I said. Then, “When are you coming back?”
    “You don’t understand,” she said.