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Back The Fall of Valor Save as PDF
Chapters (51)
  1. Introduction by Michael Bronski
  2. BEGINNING
  3. II
  4. III
  5. IV
  6. V
  7. VI
  8. VII
  9. VIII
  10. IX
  11. X
  12. XI
  13. XII
  14. XIII
  15. MIDDLE
  16. II
  17. III
  18. IV
  19. V
  20. VI
  21. VII
  22. VIII
  23. IX
  24. X
  25. XI
  26. XII
  27. XIII
  28. XIV
  29. XV
  30. XVI
  31. XVII
  32. XVIII
  33. XIX
  34. XX
  35. END
  36. II
  37. III
  38. IV
  39. V
  40. VI
  41. VII
  42. VIII
  43. IX
  44. X
  45. XI
  46. XII
  47. XIII
  48. XIV
  49. XV
  50. XVI
  51. About the Author

When, on their way to lunch, they were halfway to the bluff, Grandin realized he had forgotten Ethel’s parting words: he had left the sun-­tan bottle behind after all, somewhere in the sand. Well, they could buy another for ten cents at the drugstore. . . .

XVI

XVI

The Buccaneer was a converted frigate anchored at the pier, with chairs and tables set about a broad sloping deck and great canvas awnings stretched overhead between the masts. Waitresses in colonial costumes came up the gangplank from a kitchen housed on the pier, and sea gulls hovered at the edge of the deck, flapping their wings and uttering shrill cries. A crust of bread tossed into the air by one of the tourists brought the great birds in a sudden shrieking flock to the spot; others bobbed gently about on the waves below, waiting for scraps of food to be thrown down. A sharp wind blew across the deck, the paper napkins took to the breeze when the plates that weighted them down were lifted, and occasionally a glass of water was blown over or a vase of flowers strewn about one of the tables.

“I’m so busy hanging onto things,” Sarah Howard said, “that I can’t keep my mind on my food. Not that it matters,” she added; “it’s stone cold anyhow.”

“The boys would love this place, though. My children, I mean.”

“Yes, and all the old ladies who trip about Nantucket—and that vast American public to whom anything quaint is the equivalent of romance.”

Ethel Grandin felt rather uncomfortable with the cynical Mrs. Howard; they had little in common, and she wondered how they were going to get through the next hour or two together. She wondered even more when Sarah Howard suddenly opened up a subject which she herself wouldn’t have dreamed of mentioning, had their positions been reversed.

“I hope you won’t mind too much if I speak of something that’s absolutely none of my business. But Bill and I have both noticed it, we like you and your husband, and—well, naturally we’re concerned. I’m talking about the Haumans, of course.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand—”

“Let’s be frank, then. That Billie is an extraordinarily pretty girl. They don’t come any prettier. But just because she’s been a student of your husband’s, and they seem to be carrying it on even here, doesn’t mean anything necessarily.”

“Carrying what on?”

“Look, Mrs. Grandin, Bill and I weren’t born yesterday and neither were you. Your husband is infatuated with her.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Don’t you think so yourself?”

“But the Haumans are just married—they’re on their honeymoon.”