Billie was as pretty as a picture; an apt description, since it said everything about her that was to be said. Her husband was painfully polite, seemingly without character or mind, and so awkward on the edge of the small camp chair that it made Grandin uncomfortable to look at him. He was truly a giant, six-­feet-­two or -­three, and heavily built: enormous shoulders, large head, blond curling hair, blue eyes—the athlete, the American idol, uninteresting. The face was handsome, but curiously without anything in it, besides radiant health, to hold one’s interest. The only features not in keeping with the magazine-­cover type were the blond curls, which were a little too long at the back of the neck, and the incongruous way his baby mouth turned up at the corners, so that Hauman resembled a cross between a Bacchus and a Cupid by Rubens.

As Grandin was dismissing this unsuitable notion, he heard Ethel ask what was the meaning of the little silver bars on his shirt collar; and for the first time, he noticed these bars himself.

“That’s my rank, ma’am,” Hauman said. The tone was almost apologetic.

“Cliff’s a captain,” Billie volunteered, “in the Marines.”

This announcement was little short of astonishing to John Grandin, but Hauman seemed uncomfortable about the whole business. He was extraordinarily attentive and eager to please, but as soon as attention was turned on himself he seemed to withdraw.

“I don’t blame you for not knowing,” Billie said. “Cliff has the most beautiful uniforms but he never wears them, not even the Marines’ emblem—and none of those stunning service ribbons. He says he doesn’t have to when he’s on leave. I get so mad. All he ever wears is shirt and pants. I wish you could see his hats. He has the most thrilling hats.”

“Caps,” he said.

“Don’t you wear a cap?” Ethel asked.

“This, ma’am.” He pulled from his pocket a plain overseas cap, marked like his collar with double silver bars; like everything about him, it was immaculately clean and fresh.

“Are you on furlough, Captain?”

“No, ma’am. Sick list.”

“He doesn’t look very sick, does he?” Billie said.

“I should think not. For a few weeks?”

Somewhat sheepishly, Captain Hauman admitted he had been on the sick list for over half a year.