“I’ve seen him.”
“Indeed! Where?”
“I got Jack Taylor to invite me again. You see, when Douglas fell in love with his peerless southern beauty, Jack predicted he’d get over it even more quickly. Now he’s interested in proving he was right.”
I waited a moment, and then asked, carelessly, “Is he having any success?”
“I said, ‘Douglas, why don’t you come to see me?’ He was in a playful mood. ‘What do you want? A new automobile?’ I answered, ‘I haven’t any automobile, new or old, and you know it. What I want is you. I always loved you—surely I proved that to you.’ ‘What you proved to me was that you were a sort of wild-cat. I’m afraid of you. And anyway, I’m tired of women. I’ll never trust another one.’”
“About the same conclusion as you’ve come to regarding men,” I remarked.
“‘Douglas,’ I said, ‘come and see me, and we’ll talk over old times. You may trust me, I swear I’ll not tell a living soul.’ ‘You’ve been consoling yourself with someone else,’ he said. But I knew he was only guessing. He was seeking for something that would worry me, and he said, ‘You’re drinking too much. People that drink can’t be trusted.’ ‘You know,’ I replied, ‘I didn’t drink too much when I was with you. I’m not drinking as much as you are, right now.’ He answered, ‘I’ve been off on a desert island for God knows how many months, and I’m celebrating my escape.’ ‘Well,’ I answered, ‘let me help celebrate!’”
“What did he say to that?”
Claire resumed the combing of her silken hair, and smiled a slow smile at me. “‘You may trust me, Douglas,’ I said. ‘I swear I’ll not tell a living soul!’”
“Of course,” I remarked, appreciatively, “that means he said he’d come!”