“I’m worried about the men,” Elizabeth told him. “Suppose they do find a nest. Won’t they be in terrible danger?”

“I’ve given them specific instructions. They’re not on ‘search and destroy,’ ” he said. “They’re on ‘search and reconnaissance.’ ” He used the phrase from his Air Force service. “But what I want to tell you is how glad I am we had a chance to be together on the beach last night.”

Surprised, Elizabeth turned away from the roach flask. She remained silent. Her heart was beating faster than she wanted it to.

“I thought about you for a long time—” Hubbard stopped and looked deeply into her gray eyes. “I’m glad I’m seeing you here, this way, instead of in your father’s house.”

Elizabeth was suddenly and unhappily conscious of how much she looked like a housemaid, hair tied up, apron around her slacks. She knew what he meant. In Cambridge, she had been just Professor Carr’s “kid.” Now Peter Hubbard was seeing her for the first time as the woman she had become, a woman of her own mind and values.

His gaze was penetrating, and he was saying, “As a scientist I prefer things orderly, Liz. I don’t like false theories cluttering up the place.”

Elizabeth found herself more uncertain and perplexed. What was he driving at?

“Some people call me blunt,” he smiled at her. “And especially right now we don’t have time for beating around bushes, do we?”

Elizabeth nodded, though she wasn’t sure what she was agreeing with.

Hubbard blew pipe smoke toward the flask holding the roach and watched the insect shake its antennae as its atmosphere thickened through the air holes in the cover. “So I would like to tidy up our relationship, yours and mine . . .”

“Do we have ‘a relationship’?” Elizabeth let herself smile. She untied her apron and tossed it onto a chair. Her hands pushed back her long brown hair. She knew her cheeks were flushed, and suddenly she didn’t mind.

The man brought her up with a frank, unexpected declaration. “Liz, I am not now nor have I ever been in love with Wanda Lindstrom!”

Elizabeth was shocked. His was a directness indeed, beyond any preparation or anticipation. He was demanding, “You have believed that, haven’t you?”

Elizabeth Carr’s head came up and she answered him with her own gathered force. “I have never considered it any of my business.”

“Well, I would like to make it your business.”

Elizabeth’s heart raced anew as Peter Hubbard’s words flowered in her mind. He was adding, “We are going to see a lot of each other, not just here but when we get back to Cambridge.” He was blowing smoke at the cockroach again. Elizabeth thought it was the damnedest way for a man and a woman to be reaching toward each other. “If you want to,” he said quietly.