Page 30 - tender-is-the-night

blue. His nose was somewhat pointed and there was nev-
er any doubt at whom he was looking or talking—and this
is a flattering attention, for who looks at us?— glances fall
upon us, curious or disinterested, nothing more. His voice,
with some faint Irish melody running through it, wooed the
world, yet she felt the layer of hardness in him, of self-con-
trol and of self-discipline, her own virtues. Oh, she chose
him, and Nicole, lifting her head saw her choose him, heard
the little sigh at the fact that he was already possessed.
Toward noon the McKiscos, Mrs. Abrams, Mr. Dumphry,
and Signor Campion came on the beach. They had brought
a new umbrella that they set up with side glances toward
the Divers, and crept under with satisfied expressions—all
save Mr. McKisco, who remained derisively without. In his
raking Dick had passed near them and now he returned to
the umbrellas.
‘The two young men are reading the Book of Etiquette
together,’ he said in a low voice.
‘Planning to mix wit de quality,’ said Abe.
Mary North, the very tanned young woman whom Rose-
mary had encountered the first day on the raft, came in from
swimming and said with a smile that was a rakish gleam:
‘So Mr. and Mrs. Neverquiver have arrived.’
‘They’re this man’s friends,’ Nicole reminded her, indi-
cating Abe. ‘Why doesn’t he go and speak to them? Don’t
you think they’re attractive?’
‘I think they’re very attractive,’ Abe agreed. ‘I just don’t
think they’re attractive, that’s all.’
‘Well, I HAVE felt there were too many people on the

30 Tender is the Night