Lilian sat down on the sofa. I know her, she said, staying very still. I thought she was engaged to one of the Reeds. Her voice was flat, absent of interest.

Well she was, Walter Vail began. It’s, well, it’s turned into a big mess.

Lilian stared at the curved handle on the butler’s table, following its shape around and around. So are you going to marry her? she said, surprised at her boldness.

God, no, Walter Vail burst out. His personality seemed to return, and he nearly laughed.

Lilian looked up.

I just have to talk with her, Walter Vail said, shrinking in her gaze.

Lilian nodded. Nita Russell, she said. I always thought she was quite something.

She’s sort of crazy, Walter Vail said. High-strung.

While it had occurred to Lilian that Walter Vail had known other girls, she’d not thought of them as actually existing. Of course they did. So, the girls he liked were high-strung, with swelling chests and clouds of yellow hair like Nita Russell’s.

The room was silent. The clock ticked. Lilian sat up a little and tried to compose herself.

I just feel sorry for her, Walter Vail said, and cleared his throat.

The Nita Russell Lilian knew was a striking girl who always appeared poised and in some private way intrigued with herself. She was not someone to feel sorry for in the least. Lilian’s lower lip protruded, brooding.

She broke her engagement on my account, he said. His hands flew into the air. I have to have dinner with her. His exasperation suddenly seemed genuine.

Perhaps he really was in a bind. Lilian had heard of Nita Russell’s getting into other intrigues.

I should think so, Lilian said.

I’d much rather be with you, Walter Vail said under his breath, then seeing the effect it had, added, I really would.

It seemed to Lilian he did mean it. She felt some of the old power returning. He must have seen it in her expression for he dared approach her. He sat down beside her.

She did not pull away. She noticed how his shoulders filled out the rough wool of his jacket. She touched his arm. He was close to her again, and when she saw his face this near the Walter Vail of the night before reappeared: she knew the eyes, this near. His attention bore down sweetly on her. He took her hand. She found it difficult to think straight when he took her hand, but it seemed to ground her. In fact, it was the most certain thing of all, his warm hand.

You’re some girl, he said.

No I’m not, she said. I’m like all the other girls, except Nita Russell. I’m not like her.