Page 309 - tender-is-the-night

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When Dick got out of the elevator he followed a tortuous
corridor and turned at length toward a distant voice outside
a lighted door. Rosemary was in black pajamas; a luncheon
table was still in the room; she was having coffee.
‘You’re still beautiful,’ he said. ‘A little more beautiful
than ever.’
‘Do you want coffee, youngster?’
‘I’m sorry I was so unpresentable this morning.’
‘You didn’t look well—you all right now? Want coffee?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘You’re fine again, I was scared this morning. Mother’s
coming over next month, if the company stays. She always
asks me if I’ve seen you over here, as if she thought we were
living next door. Mother always liked you—she always felt
you were some one I ought to know.’
‘Well, I’m glad she still thinks of me.’
‘Oh, she does,’ Rosemary reassured him. ‘A very great
deal.’
‘I’ve seen you here and there in pictures,’ said Dick. ‘Once
I had Daddy’s Girl run off just for myself!’
‘I have a good part in this one if it isn’t cut.’
She crossed behind him, touching his shoulder as she
passed. She phoned for the table to be taken away and set-
tled in a big chair.

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