That was how Peter Cheever, talking to the headwaiter at the head of the stairs, saw his wife and Jim Dyckman with their heads together at a table. He wanted to go over and crack a water-bottle over Dyckman's head. He did not do it, for the excellent reason that Zada L'Etoile was at his side. She had insisted on his taking her there “to lunch with the bunch,” as she expressed it.
She also saw Charity and Jim and Cheever's sudden flush of rage. She felt that the way was opening for her dreams to come true. She was so happy over the situation that she helped Cheever out of the appalling problem before him.
He did not know how to go forward or how to retreat. He could think of nothing to say to the headwaiter who offered him his choice of tables.
Zada caught his elbow and murmured in her very best voice just loud enough for the headwaiter's benefit:
“Mr. Cheever, I'm so sorry—but I'm feeling dizzy. I'm afraid I shall faint if I don't get out in the air. It's very close in here.”
“It is very close, madam,” said the headwaiter, and he helped to support her down the steps quietly and deferentially, just as if he believed it.
Zada and Cheever thought they were escaping from a crisis, but they were drifting deeper and deeper into the converging currents. When they were safe in the motor outside Zada was proud.
“Some get-away, that?” she laughed.
“Wonderful!” said Cheever. “I didn't know you had so much social skill.”
“You don't know me,” she said. “I'm learning! You'll be proud of me yet.”