He’d often told Sarah about his family. Just small stories about their life in the old days, and how his mother remained, in most of her attitudes, a splendid relic of those times.

“I’d love you to meet her,” he once said.

“That might not be such a good idea,” Sarah had remarked.

He’d continued to think about it, however, and one afternoon in early March, when they’d been visiting a gallery on Fifty-seventh, he suddenly said to her, “Let’s go up Park and see my mother.”

“I don’t know, Charlie,” Sarah said. “How are you going to explain me?”

“That’s easy. You’re the person who’s organizing the Theodore Keller show. I told you, our family were his first patrons.”

“I suppose so,” she responded, doubtfully.

But in fact, the visit went very well. His mother seemed delighted to see them. She told Sarah how she’d given the big party for the publication of Edmund Keller’s book, back in the old days. And she promised to bring people to the gallery opening.

“I want you to give me at least thirty invitations I can send out, my dear. I’ll write a letter, and telephone. I know a lot of people who I’m sure would buy.”

“That would be wonderful, Mrs. Master,” Sarah said.

They were leaving the building when the tiny incident happened. George the doorman had hailed a taxi. Charlie disliked the usual business of people sliding across the seat, so he’d walked round the taxi while George on the sidewalk held the door open for Sarah. And just as Sarah got into the taxi, he saw the doorman staring down at her head with a look of disgust.

“Is there a problem, George?” he said sharply.

“No, Mr. Master.”

“I hope not,” said Charlie, threateningly. He’d be inheriting that apartment one day, so George had better watch out. He got in beside Sarah, frowning.

“So,” she remarked as they started down Park, “what was that about?”

“Nothing.”

“He looked at me like that when I arrived, too. But you didn’t notice.”

“I’ll have him fired.”

Sarah stared out of the window for a moment, then changed the subject. “Your mother’s great,” she said. “She could be really helpful with those invitations, you know.”

It was a week later when he was having dinner at his mother’s that she brought up the subject of Sarah.

“Your girlfriend seems nice.”

“What do you mean?”

“The girl you brought round.”

“Sarah Adler. She’s doing a good job with the show, I think.”

“I’m sure she is, dear; she seems very competent. She’s also your mistress.” Rose looked him in the eye. “I can tell, you know.”

“Oh.”

“She’s very young. Can you manage?”

“Yes.”

“That’s nice. Is it difficult, her being Jewish?”

“Should it be?”

“Don’t be silly, dear. This isn’t exactly a Jewish building, you know.”

“The damn doorman was impertinent.”

“What do you expect? It’s never arisen, as far as I know, but I don’t imagine the co-op board would let a Jew buy into the building.”