She sighed, said. “Give me a cigarette, Donald.”
I gave her a cigarette and held a light to it. She took in a deep pull, blew out the smoke, studied the end of the cigarette thoughtfully as though trying to find some way out of the predicament, then said, “Okay, Donald, you win.”
“Tell me about it.”
She said, “Minerva and I were pretty close friends. We used to play around a lot together, went out on dates. We understood each other perfectly and used to have a lot of fun. Minerva didn’t care too much about the men, but we used to get a lot of kick out of going out and seeing what would develop. We both of us liked adventure.”
“That was while she lived here and was working for Dover Fulton?”
“That’s right. She was his secretary.”
“And then what?”
“And then Minerva went to Colorado. She had some rich relatives there. She met Stanwick Carlton. She thought she could land him. Minerva didn’t care particularly about him as far as falling in love was concerned, but Minerva knew he was a good matrimonial match. She set her cap for him and landed him.”
“And then what?”
She said, “Minerva got tired of being a drab respectable housewife — she was smart enough to know that her days of playing around were all over, but she did like to have someone with whom she could discuss the old days. She used to come and visit me and we’d sit and talk until the small hours, reminiscing and recalling adventures we’d had.