“We will have to see,” Thomas Hudson said. “Are you starting to have your old doubts already?”
“No,” she said. “I want a big, big bed. To forget all about the army.”
“There is a big bed,” he said. “Maybe not as big as the army.”
“You don’t have to be rough,” she said. “All the beautiful ones end up showing pictures of their wives. You should know the Airbornes.”
“I’m glad I don’t. We’re a little waterlogged. But we were never waterborne nor said so.”
“Can you tell me anything about it?” she asked him, her hand now soundly in his pocket.
“No.”
“You never would and I love you for it. But I get curious and people ask me and I worry.”
“Just be curious,” he said. “And never worry. Don’t you remember that curiosity killed a cat? I’ve got a cat and he’s curious enough.” He thought of Boise. Then he said, “But worry kills big businessmen right in their prime. Do I have to worry about you?”
“Only as an actress. Then not too much. Now it’s only two minutes more. It’s nice country now and I like it. Can we have lunch in bed?”
“Can we go to sleep then, too?”
“Yes. It’s not a sin, if we don’t miss the plane.”
The car climbed steeply now on the old stone-paved road with the big trees on either side.
“Have you anything to miss?”
“You,” he said.
“I mean duty.”
“Did I look as though I were on duty?”
“You might be. You’re a wonderful actor. The worst I ever saw. I love you, my dear crazy,” she said. “I’ve seen you play all your great roles. The one I loved you the best in was when you were playing the Faithful Husband and you were doing it so wonderfully and there was a big spot of natural juices showed on your trousers and every time you looked at me it was bigger. That was in the Ritz, I think.”
“That was where I played the Faithful Husband best,” he said. “Like Garrick at the Old Bailey.”
“You’re a little confused,” she said. “I think you played it best on the
“When they burned her I didn’t give a damn about anything for six days.”
“That’s not your record.”
“No,” he said.
They were stopped at the gate now and the chauffeur was unlocking it.
“Do we really live here?”
“Yes. Up the hill. I’m sorry the drive’s in such bad shape.”
The car climbed it through the mango trees and the unflowering
She looked at the house and could see the open windows of the bedroom. They were big windows and in some way it reminded her of the
“I’ll miss the plane,” she said. “Why can’t I be ill? All the other women are ill.”
“I know two good doctors that will swear you are.”
“Wonderful,” she said, going up the stairs. “We won’t have to ask them to dinner, will we?”
“No,” he said, opening the door, “I’ll call them up and send the chauffeur for the certificates.”
“I am ill,” she said. “I’ve decided. Let the troops entertain themselves for once.”
“You’ll go.”
“No. I’m going to entertain you. Have you been entertained properly lately?”
“No.”
“Me either, or is it neither?”
“I don’t know,” he said and held her close and looked in her eyes and then away. He opened the door to the big bedroom. “It’s neither,” he said reflectively.
The windows were open and the wind was in the room. But it was pleasant now with the sun.
“It
“Of course, darling,” he lied. “What did you think?”
“You’re a worse liar than I am.”
“I’m not even faster.”
“Let’s not lie. Let’s pretend you made it for me.”
“I made it for you,” he said. “Only it looked like someone else.”
“Is that as hard as you can hold anyone?”
“Without breaking them.” Then he said, “Without lying down.”
“Who is against lying down?”
“Not me,” he said and picked her up and carried her to the bed.
“Let me drop the jalousie. I don’t mind your entertaining the troops. But we have a radio that entertains the kitchen. They don’t need us.”
“Now,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Now remember everything I ever taught you.”
“Aren’t I?”
“Now and then.”
“Then,” he said. “Where did we know him?”
“We met him. Don’t you remember?”
“Look, let’s not remember anything and let’s not talk and let’s not talk and let’s not talk.”
Afterwards she said, “People used to get hungry even on the
“I’ll ring for the steward.”
“But this steward doesn’t know us.”
“He will.”
“No. Let’s go out and see the house. What have you painted?”
“What all nothing.”
“Don’t you have time?”
“What do you think?”
“But couldn’t you when you’re ashore?”
“What do you mean ashore?”
“Tom,” she said. They were in the living room now in the big old chairs and she had taken her shoes off to feel the matting on the floor. She sat curled in the chair and she had brushed her hair to please him, and because of what she knew it did to him, and she sat so it swung like a heavy silken load when her head moved.
“Damn you,” he said. “Darling,” he added.
“You damned me enough,” she said.
“Let’s not talk about it.”