“What has that to do with it?”
“So many things,” said Carla, and she did not look at him; she avoided his eyes. He did not understand. She could see that now. The desire, however, to make him destroy his barriers, to come alive, was becoming an obsession with her. And then, of course, he had been the first man she had known and that made him important to her. She had never lost her feeling for him and she was sad to see him confused; Carla thought of herself as Joan of Arc: helping the king to his throne. She was not yet sure, however, that the king wished to reign.
The music was becoming soft and sentimental. Full round chords gushed around them and people danced on the stage. Men danced with women and women with men for there was not really much courage among these people.
“Would you like to dance?” asked Holton.
“Not right now.”
He was not disappointed. She watched him as he watched the other people in the room. This was something new for him. She guessed that he was shocked by the people he saw at the different tables. He showed nothing in his face, though. Perhaps he did not recognize them, did not know them the way she did: she who had married one of them.
“It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?” said Holton finally.
“Yes, but I haven’t forgotten any of it, have you?”
“Of course not. Naturally I didn’t know whether you wanted to talk about it. I figured that ... well, after you married Bankton you wouldn’t want to think about what we did.”
“I don’t,” said Carla, “love Bankton.”