“Why, Mrs. Randolph!”

“Freddie. How nice.”

The stool beside me scraped back a few inches. De Marigny’s long body took possession. He laid a palm on the counter and made some gesture to Jack with the other hand. His cousin Georges made me a salute and reached for an ashtray.

“How’s married life?” I asked.

“A bit lonely, at the moment. Nancy is in Vermont for the summer, learning to dance.”

“To dance? Doesn’t she already know how?”

“I mean real dancing. This famous dancer is teaching her, this Miss Graham. You’ve heard of her? It’s a retreat of some kind.” He paused to light a cigarette. “Nancy doesn’t like the heat so much.”

“Why don’t you join her?”

“Because I have business interests, Mrs. Randolph. I’m a working man. Anyway, I don’t want to spend the summer dancing. Georges, now.” He nudged the other man with his elbow, and Georges, who had been staring around the room, idling his cigarette, made a start. “Georges, you good-for-nothing. Why haven’t you made some escape from this inferno, like Nancy?”

Georges looked at me and then the floor. Turned around to scrabble for the ashtray. His cheeks were pink. He was a handsome devil, all right: strong Gallic looks, dark shiny hair.

Freddie just laughed and leaned toward me. “My dear cousin has an amour, you see. That’s why he stays here. But what’s your excuse, Mrs. Randolph? This column of yours? Or something more interesting, like Georges here?”

“Habit, I guess. I don’t mind the heat so much.”

Jack set a pair of glasses in front of the two men. I met his gaze for a second or two, but there was no telling what he was thinking, no expression at all on that flat, white face. Still, I had the idea he was communicating something, some idea. Someone’s at the end of his rope, he’d said.

I circled my finger around the rim of my glass. “Say. Your father-in-law’s in the same boat, isn’t that right? Wife scampered off to cooler climes.”

“Yes, Mrs. Oakes is in Maine, as usual.”

“Poor Sir Harry. The way he stomps around without her. You ought to keep each other company.”

Freddie winced. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen Sir Harry in some time.”

“On the outs, are you?”

“For the moment. He’s something of an autocrat, you see—”

“You don’t say.”

“And I—well.” Freddie put his hand to his heart. “I am not so easily brought to heel, I’m afraid. He knows I don’t want his money, and it irks him.”

“Irks him? Isn’t he pleased you’re not after Nancy’s fortune?”

“Not at all. A man like that, money is the only power he knows. Without it, he’s just an ordinary fellow. And a son-in-law who can’t be bought—well. But we will mend fences. He’s got a temper, that fellow, but he’s like me. The storm passes, and everything is like it was before.” Freddie sipped his whiskey. “Anyway, he leaves for Maine in a day or two. That should cool him off.”