“My wife sent me along—I’m a sort of ambassador, you know?... Matter of business, entirely.”
Mark said, “I see,” wondering how old the man was. The moustache had an appearance of soft youth. He smiled, wanting Cora’s third husband to be at ease, and nodded to a chair.
“Oh, thanks no. Mrs. Rand wants to know if you’d mind meeting her. At her hotel, for instance?”
“I don’t mind at all,” Mark lied, “Glad to. Any time.”
“Then she may let you know? Thanks ever so. Good luck to your play tonight,” said the young man and walked out gracefully.
Gurdy came through the glass doors and asked, “Who’s he?” Mark lifted the pliant, hard body in the air. He fancied that Gurdy must feel something odd, here.
“How old would you say he was, darling?”
“Dunno. Who’s Mrs. Rand?”
“An actress.”
“Put me down,” said Gurdy, “My pants are comin’ off.”