Page 157 - tender-is-the-night

her face getting big as it came up to him; he had never
seen anything so dazzling as the quality of her skin, and
since sometimes beauty gives back the images of one’s best
thoughts he thought of his responsibility about Nicole, and
of the responsibility of her being two doors down across the
corridor.
‘The rain’s over,’ he said. ‘Do you see the sun on the
slate?’
Rosemary stood up and leaned down and said her most
sincere thing to him:
‘Oh, we’re such ACTORS—you and I.’
She went to her dresser and the moment that she laid her
comb flat against her hair there was a slow persistent knock-
ing at the door.
They were shocked motionless; the knock was repeated
insistently, and in the sudden realization that the door was
not locked Rosemary finished her hair with one stroke, nod-
ded at Dick who had quickly jerked the wrinkles out of the
bed where they had been sitting, and started for the door.
Dick said in quite a natural voice, not too loud:
‘—so if you don’t feel up to going out, I’ll tell Nicole and
we’ll have a very quiet last evening.’
The precautions were needless for the situation of the
parties outside the door was so harassed as to preclude any
but the most fleeting judgments on matters not pertinent to
themselves. Standing there was Abe, aged by several months
in the last twentyfour hours, and a very frightened, con-
cerned colored man whom Abe introduced as Mr. Peterson
of Stockholm.

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