“Well,” the man laughed, “I guess about four years.”

“Four years,” the little woman said.

Adam nodded. “That speaks well for your hotel, Mrs. Lambert,” he said, “and for Mr. Griffin’s taste.”

“See?” Mrs. Lambert said, grinning mysteriously.

The Griffins grinned back. “Yeah,” the man said. He turned to Adam. “Had chow yet?”

“No.”

“Neither have we. We’re just headed down to the Palace. If you care to join us, you’re welcome. Isn’t he, Vy?”

The woman in the black dress said yes without a great deal of enthusiasm.

Adam looked at her. There was a hardness of line about her eyes, a weariness, that contrasted sharply with her husband’s open features. She was maybe thirty-three. But her eyes were older. “Well, I don’t know, I hate to barge in—”

“Barge in? Listen!” Griffin gurgled with amusement. “Now you wouldn’t want to disappoint my little girl, would you?” he asked.

Mrs. Griffin seemed to wince, automatically.

“Come on. Treat’s on Sam Griffin!”

They walked by the three sitting ladies, out the glass doorway, into the town.

“A great day,” Sam Griffin said, taking a mighty breath. “Ain’t it, Vy?”

“Sure, Sam.”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Cramer, you like this climate?”

“Oh, very much,” Adam said, putting a little extra dash of softness into his voice. He had much to do today, but there was something here: he sensed it.

“We love it, the little girl and me. Listen, you sure did make a friend of Mrs. Pearl Lambert, mister—seeing the late movie with her. She’s a wonderful woman. Really wonderful, you know what I mean? We first come here in—when was it?”

“Nineteen fifty-two.”

“Nineteen fifty-two. Just passing through, on the way to Farra-gut. But we been traveling for hours, you know the way a person does, and were we bushed! I mean. Well, she gave us a room and said, ‘You all look like you been working too hard. Why don’t you take a little vacation, stay a while?’ Remember, Vy?”

“Yeah,” the woman said, “I remember.”

Adam smiled and turned his attention to Mrs. Griffin. She had a very nice sway to her hips as she walked, and a sensuousness that neither the hair-do nor the plain black dress could conceal. She’s trying to be unattractive, he thought. Why?

“Where do you hail from?” Griffin asked.

“Los Angeles.”

“Los Angeles! Say! Do you know the Fairgrounds at Pomona?”

Adam said he did.

“Vy and me worked the Fairgrounds twice, and it was good, too. Real good. We was pushing something called the Air-Flow-Master.” He chuckled. “Made close to six hundred a day on that gadget. I mean, it was perfect for a pitch: see, what it did—”

“Sam, please.”

“What do you mean?”

“I—” Vy Griffin shrugged. “Nothing, honey. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”