Martin had a way of disappearing when things went against him. Floyd read the letter once more. “The safer proposition.” Of course, she would be safe with him; he was too happy to let the significance of a word worry him. He slowly tore the letter in little pieces, and said nothing to Julie about it.
The next evening, he went over to dine with the Gonzolas. Mrs. Gonzola had asked him quietly not to come during the day.
“Julie needs time to calm down.”
“Calm down?” laughed Floyd. “It’s too early for that.”
“She is quite exhausted. She must get used to the idea.”
It was not exhausting to him to get used to happiness. It came natural to think of Julie as “my dear wife.” He saw many, many years ahead. As they grew old they would get fonder of each other, like his mother and father. A pang shot through him; if they were alive now! He had not “lived” like other men; he had waited for the one woman. The close contact was intoxicating, leaving him incapable of logical reasoning. He waited impatiently for the evening.
Julie stood under the big chandelier; her soft white gown with a touch of red velvet seemed a part of her flexible body; a filet of it was drawn over her forehead. Her full red lips were a splash of color in her pale face. She came quite naturally to him; Floyd’s heart beat furiously. Mrs. Gonzola looked regal in black lace, relieved by a huge diamond brooch set in old silver. She approved of Floyd; he was a gentleman.
“My father lives with us. Julie has probably told you; I want her to take you up to see him. Don’t speak of your engagement yet. Julie will break it to him gradually, but I want him to know you, and I am sure he will love you as we do.”
How gracious she was; it was like the condescension of a Queen.
“Break it to him,” as if it were bad news. Floyd felt uncomfortable.