"Modern Woman—the Lost Sex. You got it out of the book."
"It's a pretty good book."
Yvonne watched the waiter exchange a filled glass for the empty one. She seemed to want to defer talking while she caught up with something in her mind. She sipped, and stared at the people eating dinner in the azure haze the place calls light, and sipped again. She had a good-sized mouth with a pretty shape: the lipstick went where the lips were, and nowhere else.
"I wanted to talk to you. I was ready to pester you. That's why I moved next door. I was going to let you find it out when we came back this evening. I was going to ask you in. I'm not afraid of you."
"Smallest achievement in the history of courage."
"I want to figure out what to do about Rol. You see—I'm still crazy about him."
"Send him to a good psychiatrist."
She exhaled with gentle violence. "Try it!"
"You said he was very upset—promised you anything. That was your chance to make him promise psychiatry. You seem to have read books about it—"
She shook her head. "Not many, really. You don't understand. Rol wasn't in the least bit upset because of what he'd done. He was upset about my attitude over it. He said it was a 'trivial incident'—and told me he loved me—and said I was frigid and what did I expect. He said he didn't consider he'd been unfaithful to me—and talked on and on about being 'human.' Imagine!"