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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

Against the dim squares of the open windows he saw her go to the wicker chair by the bureau and sit down. He stayed where he was, uncovered by the quilt she had thrown back, feeling chilly as the night breeze blew over him. In a moment she arose, came to the bed table to get her cigarettes, and returned to the chair. From time to time he heard the wicker creaking.

He went back to his bed. He did not know how long she had sat up. As far as he remembered, she was still sitting there when he fell asleep. . . .

II

II

John Grandin looked at his watch again. It was nearly ten o’clock. He still didn’t feel like breakfast, but the best of the morning would soon be over if he didn’t get up. Besides, to lie there till noon would have been a tacit acknowledgment of failure if not guilt. Best to get up and act as if nothing had happened. As he stepped from bed, his feet tangled with the clothing he had dropped on the floor the night before.

He went to the window to see what the place was like and discovered, in daylight, the relation of Dune House to the sea. The hotel fronted a bluff, with a road along the edge. Below, a barren expanse of sand stretched like a vast arid prairie between the bluff and the beach, half a mile away. Far down on the shore a few large umbrellas had been set up, tilted at an angle against the sun; he could see two or three early figures lying about in the spots of shade. Though the sun was high and the day warm, a faint white mist hung over the sand, so faint as to leave him unsure whether it was mist at all or the glare of sun and sea.

An old lady coming along the drive stared up at him with a fixed stare and he moved quickly back from the window. He opened a suitcase, got out his shaving things, and his clothes for the day.

While shaving at the bathroom mirror, it suddenly occurred to him that if he hadn’t got into Ethel’s bed without his pajamas on, last night might have been a different story. He was angry to think that perhaps she thought he had planned it that way, as bait or lure or some such silly thing. That’s what came of quarreling; it made him self-­conscious about his every thought. Nothing he did afterward was right; everything had to be weighed carefully for its possible effect or non-­effect; each innocent move could be misconstrued. Double meanings would be rife, now, for days to come.