"Like it here?"
"Right now, I wish I could stay here forever." She had her hands clasped under her head, was talking to the tips of the cypresses as well as to Hall.
"Why don't you?"
"It's like Shangri-La," she said. "We should both be two centuries old. How old are you, Hall?"
"Thirty-six."
"I'm twenty-eight. Honest. Not twenty-one. Twenty-eight. In two years I'll be over the borderline. Then I'll be an old lady. But right now I'm not going to lie about my age."
"Right now I don't think you could tell a lie. Not even a white lie."
"No fair, Hall. First you get me drunk—only I'm not high any more—then you take me to Shangri-La. Can I call you Matthew? Or is it Matty or Matt the women in your life call you?"
"My friends call me Matt."
"My friends! There's no Mrs. Matt?"