“Well, what do you think?” said Ellen.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s all right, if you want to do it. Who are you going to invite?”

“First of all, I think we should have Matt Hooper.”

“What for? He eats over at the Abelard, doesn’t he? It’s all included in the price of the room.”

“That’s not the point, Martin. You know that. He’s alone in town, and besides, he’s very nice.”

“How do you know? I didn’t think you knew him.”

“Didn’t I tell you? I ran into him in Albert Morris’ on Friday. I’m sure I mentioned it to you.”

“No, but never mind. It doesn’t make any difference.”

“It turns out he’s the brother of the Hooper I used to know. He remembered a lot more about me than I did about him. But he is a lot younger.”

“Uh-huh. When are you planning this shindig for?”

“I was thinking about tomorrow night. And it’s not going to be a shindig. I simply thought we could have a nice, small party with a few couples. Maybe six or eight people altogether.”

“Do you think you can get people to come on that short notice?”

“Oh yes. Nobody does anything during the week. There are a few bridge parties, but that’s about all.”

“Oh,” said Brody. “You mean summer people.”

“That’s what I had in mind. Matt would certainly feel at ease with them. What about the Baxters? Would they be fun?”

“I don’t think I know them.”

“Yes, you do, silly. Clem and Cici Baxter. She was Cici Davenport. They live out on Scotch. He’s taking some vacation now. I know because I saw him on the street this morning.”

“Okay. Try them if you want.”

“Who else?”

“Somebody I can talk to. How about the Meadows?”

“But he already knows Harry.”

“He doesn’t know Dorothy. She’s chatty enough.”

“All right,” said Ellen. “I guess a little local color won’t hurt. And Harry does know everything that goes on around here.”

“I wasn’t thinking about local color,” Brody said sharply. “They’re our friends.”

“I know. I didn’t mean anything.”

“If you want local color, all you have to do is look in the other side of your bed.”

“I know. I said I was sorry.”

“What about a girl?” said Brody. “I think you should try to find some nice young thing for Hooper.”

There was a pause before Ellen said, “If you think so.”

“I don’t really care. I just thought he might enjoy himself more if he had someone his own age to talk to.”

“He’s not that young, Martin. And we’re not that old. But all right. I’ll see if I can think of somebody who’d be fun for him.”

“I’ll see you later,” Brody said, and he hung up the phone. He was depressed, for he saw something ominous in this dinner party. He couldn’t be sure, but he believed—and the more he thought about it, the stronger the belief became—that Ellen was launching another campaign to re-enter the world he had taken her from, and this time she had a lever with which to jimmy her way in: Hooper.