David lay in bed, his mind too full of the women in his life, and he turned for comfort, as he so often did, to that fantasy father and fantasy son, twins in young manhood, identical. His longing for them carried him into a betraying sleep with dreams as crowded with women as his life had always been.

David woke to the winter’s first snow, the children up early and out in it, sent to clear the walks, no doubt; but Patsy and Tyler were throwing snow balls at each other while Christine stood dreaming into the whitened trees. David stood in his robe, watching them. Tyler, as a result of too mighty a pitch, lost his footing and went sliding down the steep pitch of lawn, feet first on his stomach. Patsy clenched round her laughter, clotted snow dripping from her hair, and even Christine’s attention had been caught, her grown-up frown of disapproval giving way to a grin as Tyler stood up and shook a triumphant fist about his head as if that sliding fall had been the crown of his achievement. Ted came out to call them to breakfast, and the two younger ones threw respectfully misaimed balls in his direction before they followed him back into the house. Only Christine noticed her grandfather standing at his window watching. She gave him a friendly wave before she started back to the house. He was glad she gave no sign of feeling spied on. Perhaps she didn’t realize her loneliness was so exposed, or perhaps she didn’t mind his seeing it.

‘Do you think it would embarrass Christine if I took her to the movies tomorrow night?’ David asked Mary when she brought his mail down to him later in the morning.

‘Not if you take her some place out of the neighbourhood,’ Mary said. ‘I think she’d love it. Fifteen’s awful, isn’t it?’

‘Do you remember being fifteen?’

‘I certainly do. I was suicidal until I had my first date, and then he bored me. The only thing you know for certain at fifteen is that nobody, but nobody is ever going to marry you.’

‘I wonder why that’s so important,’ David mused. ‘Is it hormones, do you suppose?’

‘Well, I hope there’s not a pill for it,’ Mary said. ‘Or what would be the incentive for washing your hair and watching the chocolate?’

‘How would you like to go out to lunch today?’

‘What for?’ Mary asked, surprised.

‘Just for fun,’ David answered, and he meant it, for he was tired of the ulterior motives which had held him distant from her for so many weeks and deprived him of the easy, funny companion she could be.

To his relief and pleasure, she accepted, recognizing it not as a trap but as the peace offering he intended it to be.

— 6 —