She got tipsy on her date with David Hardy. David Hardy got drunk. She chose to meet him at a steakhouse near Dupont Circle, though he’d offered to pick her up at her apartment. When she arrived at the restaurant, he was waiting for her in a red leather booth, looking almost exactly as he did at work—clean-shaven, wearing a dark-blue suit, his hair combed but falling over his forehead. His eyes were banded in dark, end-of-the-day circles. He moved as if to kiss her cheek but didn’t. He pumped her hand nervously and said, “You look great.”

“Thank you.”

“How about a drink?”

There were two water glasses on the table. “Maybe some wine?” she said. She’d had wine with Dermot on their first date, a glass or two of red wine she hadn’t liked but had drunk anyway, and it had made her less nervous. She’d grown talkative, chatting about Khrushchev’s wanting his own electric toaster, playing Ben-Hur with the salt and pepper shakers. She’d felt amusing. She sat across from David Hardy with her hands in her lap, her purse next to her in the booth, and he tilted his head back as he gazed at the wine list, called the waiter my good man, and ordered a bottle of burgundy. He did most of the talking, skillfully asking her something about herself, listening to her answer, then directing the conversation toward his own experiences: the various jobs he’d held in Washington and, before that, in Baltimore; the town where he’d grown up in central Virginia; his three semesters at U.Va.— “I was more interested in the Everly Brothers than in my classes.” What did she think of Simon and Garfunkel, he wanted to know, and then told her what he thought: “Good music, but they’re so serious, like someone ran over their dog. They could take a lesson from the Beatles, you know? ‘In restless dreams I walked alone,’ fine, but ‘I wanna hold your hand’ too. ‘Mi-chelle, ma belle.’ ” He opened his hand, palm up, on the table between them, and she thought for a moment he wanted her to hold it; then the steaks arrived.

“You know, I really admire you,” he said halfway through the meal.

She was on her second glass of wine. It was necessary that he admire her, she wanted him to admire her, but she said, “There’s no reason to.”

“Sure there is. You’ve got a lot on your plate. And I don’t know who this husband was, but he’s a fool for not being here, right now, instead of me. I’m sorry, I’ve got no business saying that, but I’ve said it. There it is.”

“Well—”

“You know, I was engaged once. I was all set to tie the knot. But it didn’t work out.”