Page 306 - tender-is-the-night

people in the world.’
Her gloved hands closed over his on the desk; ‘Dick—
we’re making The Grandeur that was Rome—at least we
think we are; we may quit any day.’
He looked at her hard, trying to make her a little self-con-
scious, so that she would observe less closely his unshaven
face, his crumpled and slept-in collar. Fortunately, she was
in a hurry.
‘We begin early because the mists rise at eleven—phone
me at two.’
In his room Dick collected his faculties. He left a call for
noon, stripped off his clothes and dove literally into a heavy
sleep.
He slept over the phone call but awoke at two, refreshed.
Unpacking his bag, he sent out suits and laundry. He shaved,
lay for half an hour in a warm bath and had breakfast. The
sun had dipped into the Via Nazionale and he let it through
the portières with a jingling of old brass rings. Waiting for
a suit to be pressed, he discovered from the Corriere della
Sera that ‘una novella di Sinclair Lewis ‘Wall Street’ nel-
la quale autore analizza la vita sociale di una piccola citta
Americana.’ Then he tried to think about Rosemary.
At first he thought nothing. She was young and magnet-
ic, but so was Topsy. He guessed that she had had lovers and
had loved them in the last four years. Well, you never knew
exactly how much space you occupied in people’s lives. Yet
from this fog his affection emerged—the best contacts are
when one knows the obstacles and still wants to preserve
a relation. The past drifted back and he wanted to hold her

306 Tender is the Night