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“Are you crazy?”

“Now that’s no thing to say to anybody who’s fought both
pro and am. I’ve had fifty-six bouts, doll, and one thing I get sensitive about is anybody thinking I’m punchy because I’m not. I’m just Shane. I got a lot of friends. I’m not afraid to spend a buck. I like things nice. If I don’t like the looks of your place, we’ll move back into the hotel. But I like home-cooked food. And a woman around to keep things picked up. Somebody to talk to. And a little loving now and then. I know you’ve got a place of your own and no husband and no steady boy-friend so it isn’t like I was moving somebody out so I can move in. And it don’t matter to me one damn that you don’t think much of me right now. You’ll get to like me. I’m a pretty nice guy. I’ve got a lot of friends. And that Margot was getting on my nerves something terrible. So let’s go to the party, on account of it’s a waste of good liquor the way mine is wearing off so fast.”

“I have the crazy feeling I’m dreaming all this, Shane.”

“Take a clue. You’re not. Jesus Christ, woman, what do you expect when you go churning around by yourself? A ticket to Bible class? You just made a new friend. So either get out now and get convinced—because I got the feeling it’s going to have to happen sooner or later anyhow—or drive on slow to the party.”

“How … how long is your vacation?”

“Until a certain guy gets tired of waiting and figures he better withdraw a certain warrant. And then I can get back and keep those clowns working for me from stealing me blind.”

“I’ll drive slowly,” she said.

“That’s using the old head, big doll. What’s your name again?”

“Gloria, Shane. Gloria Garvey.”

“That’s right. I forget names. Nice name, Gloria. Kind of fits a real big woman like you.” They drove slowly toward town. “Now we’re getting straightened away, Gloria, just you don’t get tricky. There’s no way you can wheel and deal me out without giving yourself some big miseries.”

“All right, Shane.”

A few minutes later she began to laugh, and she could detect an edge of wild hysteria in the sound.

“What’s so funny?”

“It would be … hard to explain. I was thinking of how I was accused of being aggressive not long ago.”

“You? That’s what they used to write about me in the ring.
Even when I was getting my ears slapped off. Shane was aggressive. Always boring in. Hell, it was the only style I knew. Like Armstrong. Keep that leather flying.”

When they got to the house it was easy to see that it was a big noisy party. As she started toward the door Shane grasped her arm strongly and hauled her back. “One more thing, Gloria.”

“Yes?”

“No being a pig. No getting drunk. No loud talk. No cootch dancing. Don’t tell dirty jokes. No going off with anybody, like that Margot pig. You’re with Shane now, and when you’re with Shane, you’re a lady, and you better not forget it. I’ll have an eye on you. And when I’m ready to go, I don’t want no argumentation.” He gave her a small but powerful shake, his blunt fingers painful on her arm. “This is getting to you? You’re reading me loud and clear?”

“Yes, Shane,” she said humbly. And they walked together to the door, and she suddenly discovered, to her dismay, that she was walking with her knees slightly bent so as to minimize the discrepancy in their height.

Colonel Hildebrandt left the party early. He had danced with the bride and some of the other females, and had left by mid-afternoon to complete his current painting project. Upon his return it took but a casual inspection to convince him that it was unlikely that he would be fed. So, in his room, he opened tins of rations and cooked on his two-burner gasoline stove. Mrs. Winkler arrived just as he was finishing, and he loaned her one of his two gasoline lanterns, lighting it for her and assuring her that it was not in the least dangerous.

He kept his hearing aid on as he read until the lantern was returned. And then he removed the hearing aid and sat and read a little longer in the utter silence which he had learned to appreciate. He was in bed by ten, with tomorrow’s project all planned. He would have to use Saltamontes again to get to the canyon he wished to paint.

Hildabeth was also a rather early casualty. She found enough in the kitchen to satisfy her hunger, and as she was preparing it, Miles Drummond appeared on the same errand. She increased the portions, and when it was ready they carried it on trays to the owner’s apartment.

Miles, she noticed, was in a most precarious state. He was glassy, unco-ordinated, largely incomprehensible, and solemn
as a little white-headed owl. He ate very little of the food. When she finished he decided he would teach her how to play chess. He was deaf to her spirited protests. He wobbled over and got his board and men. As he was setting them up, his eyes suddenly rolled. He hiccuped once and leaned gently forward and came to rest with his head in the middle of the board. A few moments later he began to snore.

Hildabeth went around and straightened him up, pulled his chair out, picked him up bodily, staggered to his bed with him and dropped him on top of it. She put the chessboard and men away, stacked the two trays and the dishes, began to turn out the lights. The final light was the one near his bed. She turned out the light, leaned over heavily and kissed him on the forehead and murmured, “Poor little chicken.”

She took the trays to the kitchen and then went to bed. She worried about Dotsy until she got up and dressed again and went looking for her. But she could not find her. A few minutes after she had gone back to bed, Dotsy came in, and shut the door quietly.

“You can turn the light on. I’m awake. Where
have
you been?”

Dotsy turned the light on, and began to unbutton her blouse. She yawned. “Quite a party, wasn’t it?”

“You mean isn’t it. You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well … I’ve been here and there.”

“Nonsense. I looked all over for you. Where have you been and what have you been doing?”

Dotsy suddenly grinned at her, and Hildabeth thought it a very evil and malicious grin. “I won’t tell you.”

“What!”

“I made a promise. I can’t tell you. Not yet. When we’re on our way home I can tell you.”

“I’d like to get right out of this bed and shake the tar out of you!”

“You do that, and I’ll never tell you. You know I won’t. You know how stubborn I can get.”

“I certainly do. Suit yourself. Don’t ever tell me. Good night.” She turned her face to the wall.

After the light went out, Hildabeth heard Dotsy get into bed. In a little while she began to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Hildabeth demanded.

“I’ll tell you on the trip home.”

“I could learn to hate you, Dorothy Winkler! I really could! You know how I feel about secrets.”

“Certainly do. You love ’em. You love ’em so much you got to share them with everybody you know. Good night, dear.”

Gil and Jeanie Wahl were trying, with all the ingenuity at their command, to break each other’s hearts. Gil had drunk too much. He had become very festive. He had been a dancing, singing fool, in love with the whole world. And he had thought the whole world loved him. He and Mary Jane had been improvising a burlesque of the Mexican Hat Dance when he had looked around and hadn’t spotted Jeanie. He felt vaguely troubled, but he kept dancing.

Finally he said, “Better quit.”

“Hey! Not now. You know, you’re a fun guy, Gil. Haven’t hardly had a chance to say a word to you. You too busy being a bride.”

“Don’t see Jeanie,” he said.

“She’s around someplace. Come on!”

“Nope. Gotta find my li’l Jeanie.”

So he had looked everywhere, and finally had gone to the room and unlocked the door. She was in bed, reading.

He went grinning over and plumped down on the edge of the bed and said, “Hi, Jeanie! Wassa matter? You don’t feel good or something?”

“I feel pretty all right, thank you.”

“Looked all over. You were gone. Looked everyplace.”

“I’m astonished that you missed me, Gilbert. I really am. You were having such a terrific time when I left.”

“You sore or something?”

“Why should I be sore or something? I’d say I just got bored. It was so boring watching you blundering all over that dance floor too drunk to even know who you were clinging to.”

“Now wait a minute,” he said, scowling. “Put that damn book down and let’s get a couple things straight around here.”

She sighed and closed the book and put it aside. “All right. We will get a couple of things straight around here.”

“This was a party. Right?”

“I guess so. I had a delirious time. I should have danced all night.”

“Dint I dance with you, dint I?”

“Twice, I think. I am so terribly grateful to you, really I am.”

“Katy Hepburn yet. So I danced with the others too. Everybody was dancing with everybody. So what the hell does that mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just the spectacle you were making of yourself. It just seemed boring. I got tired of watching it.”

“You danced with all those guys!”

She smiled. “I really didn’t have any other choice, did I? If I wanted to dance, darling. You were otherwise engaged. Yes, I danced with them. And I was fondled by them, of course.”

He jumped up. “Who did that? Who’s the wise guy? I’ll kill ’em!”

“Oh, sit down, hero! I was merely being subjected to the sort of attentions you were giving the others.”

“I was not!”

“Every minute you were dancing with the Garvey woman, you had your hand on her big nasty rump. Everybody saw it.”

“I had my hand on her waist!”

“Really, dear. What kind of a fool do you think I am?”

“Well … if I was I didn’t know it. She’s pretty tall, you know.”

“And that lovely dreamy number with Mary Jane. You two made such a pretty picture together. If you’d gotten any closer to her, you’d have been standing behind her. All that romantic dipping and swooping, and you with an expression on your face like some kind of sweaty animal. I could have died of shame. Everybody was looking at you two.”

“You listen, Jeanie!”

“I really don’t think there’s anything you can say that I would very much care to listen to. I guess you’ve given me the word, Gilbert. The honeymoon is over. You’ve made it so terribly clear.” Her mouth began to tremble. “And I thought we were different. I guess I was a fool.”

“Now hold on!” he said angrily.

“But now I find out it’s really a very ordinary marriage. There’s nothing special about it. You can go around being the big party boy, and when I’m bored I’ll just leave, dear. I won’t cramp your style. But the least we can do, in all honesty, is to stop pretending that this relationship of ours is unique. We don’t want to kid ourselves.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” he yelled. “So if it’s going to be ordinary it’ll be ordinary.”

“Obviously!”

“If you want to take a sour-puss attitude toward a party, go ahead. Spoil the fun.”

“Fun!”

“You don’t understand innocent fun, do you? You don’t understand how a person can have an innocent good time.”

“Not old sour-puss me, darling.”

“So read your book.”

She picked it up. “Thank you. I will.” She held it close to her face. He stamped around noisily, getting undressed. She stared at the blurred meaningless words, the silent tears running down her face.

He snatched the light off and got into his bed. “Night,” he grunted.

“Good night, Gilbert. Sleep well.”

She put the book on the floor and stuck her face into the pillow and tried to cry without making a sound.

“Jeanie?”

“Yes?”

“I got a little tight.”

“That’s news?”

“A person tries to explain something and all they get is that nasty, bitter, sarcastic stuff. So why try? Good night.”

She did not answer him. After a long time she said, “Are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“What I mean is, Gilbert, that maybe it’s time we made an adult adjustment to this marriage. I have sometimes worried a little about the strength of the … physical part of it.”

“You haven’t acted a damn bit worried.”

“You don’t understand. I think it’s time we started to use a little more restraint.”

“Like now?”

“Precisely.”

“Big deal. How about in the book on marital relations? Remember, it said that when the woman starts to use her sex on a reward and punishment cycle, then it’s an emotionally unhealthy situation. Okay! You think I goofed. I don’t think I did. So comes the punishment.”

“You
know
I didn’t mean anything like that. You’re being
just as ugly as you can possibly be. I think you’re drunk and horrible and cruel.”

“Thanks, honey.”

Again there was a long silence in the dark room. The sound of the music was far away.

“What gets me,” he said moodily, “is all of a sudden this restraint kick. Sort of a puritan idea. Anything that’s fun is sinful. That old lady of yours is a prize example. She can’t even smile without looking as if her mouth hurts.”

“My mother has nothing to do with this discussion!”

“How can you be so sure, honey? She brought you up. And I’ll bet you the way she had it organized, if your old man spent a poker night with the boys, he couldn’t get within forty yards of her for a month.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“You’re the one started this adult adjustment routine. I don’t figure I’m a pagan or anything. And I don’t think I’ve got any obsessive or compulsive approach to sex. Let’s put the cards right on the table. We’re starting out in life, like they say. And we’re doing the kind of work we want to do. We both like kids and we know how to handle them well, and there’ll be a lot of satisfaction in that. Not much money, God knows, but what I guess you could call emotional fringe benefits. All right. Since we’ve been married, and every chance we had before we got married, we’ve spent a lot of time in bed. If it’s more than average, I don’t know and I don’t care. A lot of marriages never get straightened away in that department. I enjoy it. Unless you’re one hell of an actress, you do too. And it’s something we get better at, I think. I even think you could call it some kind of an art form. If there wasn’t any deep emotional or even … spiritual aspects to it, then it would just be a lot of hunger and sensuousness and nothing else. You follow me? But because it’s what is is, I don’t think you can logically start talking about restraint unless you’re trying to hurt me because you got jealous.”