“He couldn’t come, he’s working on a show. Are you going to have children?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I want one.” She sighed and touched the skullcap on her head with a hand that was pale and like the claw of a bird, a hand that shook. “If I’m not too old I’m going to make a child. I think that’s what I need.”
“You must be very happy with him.”
She nodded and said with great sincerity, “Yes, I’m very happy now. After a long time I am.” And Carla looked into her sad dark eyes and saw that they had not changed expression.
“Who is this?” asked Laura Whitner, turning to Holton, making love to him automatically with her face.
“This,” said Carla, “is Robert Holton, an old friend of mine. We knew each other in Florence during the war.”
“Indeed!” She lifted her thin brows and made her mouth very round. Holton blushed and Carla wanted to protect him.
“I’m very pleased to meet you,” said Holton awkwardly. “I’ve liked you in the movies.” Carla remembered then his honesty: the thing that had attracted her to him. He had always been honest; she wondered if that was so now.
“Have you really, child? Thank you.” She made a gesture that was intended for an entire audience but it was still very graceful.