"Please. A small token of my appreciation," he said. "Please?"
The clerk accepted his credit card.
"I'll treasure them," Laurence said with a pleasant smile. "Thank you."
They strolled back to the hotel, where they were immediately seated in a booth in the rear of the Campton Place. There were few other diners; it was late in the afternoon, and most of the see-and-be-seen crowd was already gone.
"How about Champagne?" Laurence asked. "A toast your success."
The wine steward uncorked a bottle of Veuve Cliquot and they toasted, and while they enjoyed an excellent lunch, she spoke again about horses and polo.
"I would love to go to France. I've never been there. I would give anything to see the championship tournament that's held every summer in Deauville."
Hearing her talk about it, he thought that it might be exciting to go there. With her? Was that why it would be exciting? What had happened in the last couple of hours? What was it she had said or done to break down the restraint he had exercised for the past couple of months, which he now fully acknowledged?
With this thought, and all their talk about horses, he thought again of his wife, and the realization that this pleasant afternoon with Laurence would soon be over.
Back outside, the attendant brought him his car.