She pulled herself together quickly.
“Oh, let’s forget it,” she said, and smiled.
Frelaine found her smile dazzling.
After that, they talked of other things. Frelaine told her of his business, and she told him about New York. She was twenty-two, an unsuccessful actress.
They had supper together. When she accepted Frelaine’s invitation to go to the Gladiatorials, he felt absurdly elated.
He called a cab—he seemed to be spending his entire time in New York in cabs—and opened the door for her. She started in. Frelaine hesitated. He could have pumped a shot into her at that moment. It would have been very easy.
But he held his hand. Just for the moment, he told himself.
* * *
The Gladiatorials were about the same as those held anywhere else, except that the talent was a little better. There were the usual historical events, swordsmen and netmen, duels with saber and foil.
Most of these, naturally, were fought to the death.