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"More than anything in the world. Do you think it will be all right?"
"I do. Why not?"
"Because we come from such different backgrounds. You're all such good people. You live for public service."
"Except for our Millie. She's like Bernie's brother--she wants to make money."
"Even she has scars on her back from Cable Street."
"True."
"Lloyd is like you. Political work isn't something extra he does, like a hobby--it's the center of his life. And I'm a selfish millionaire."
"I think there are two kinds of marriage," Ethel said thoughtfully. "One is a comfortable partnership, where two people share the same hopes and fears, raise children as a team, and give each other comfort and help." She was talking about herself and Bernie, Daisy realized. "The other is a wild passion, madness and joy and sex, possibly with someone completely unsuitable, maybe someone you don't admire or don't even really like." She was thinking about her affair with Fitz, Daisy felt sure. She held her breath: she knew Ethel was now telling her the raw truth. "I've been lucky, I've had both," Ethel said. "And here's my advice to you. If you get the chance of the mad kind of love, grab it with both hands, and to hell with the consequences."
"Wow," said Daisy.
She left a few minutes later. She felt privileged that Ethel had given her a glimpse into her soul. But when she got back to her empty apartment she felt depressed. She made a cocktail and poured it away. She put the kettle on and took it off again. The radio went off the air. She lay between cold sheets and wished Lloyd was there.
She compared Lloyd's family with her own. Both had troubled histories, but Ethel had forged a strong, supportive family out of unfavorable materials, which Daisy's own mother had been unable to do--though that was more Lev's fault than Olga's. Ethel was a remarkable woman, and Lloyd had many of her qualities.
Where was he now, and what was he doing? Whatever the answer, he was sure to be in danger. Would he be killed now, when at last she was free to love him without restraint and, eventually, to marry him? What would she do if he died? Her own life would be at an end, she felt: no husband, no lover, no friends, no country. In the early hours of the morning she cried herself to sleep.
Next day she slept late. At midday she was drinking coffee in her little dining room, dressed in a black silk wrap, when her fifteen-year-old maid came in and said: "Major Williams is here, my lady."
"What?" she screeched. "He can't be!"
Then he came through the door with his kit bag over his shoulder.
He looked tired and had several days' growth of beard, and he had evidently slept in his uniform.
She threw her arms around him and kissed his bristly face. He kissed her back, inhibited somewhat by being unable to stop grinning. "I must stink," he said between kisses. "I haven't changed my clothes for a week."
"You smell like a cheese factory," she said. "I love it." She pulled him into her bedroom and started to take his clothes off.
"I'll take a quick shower," he said.
"No," she said. She pushed him back on the bed. "I'm in too much of a hurry." Her longing for him was frantic. And the truth was that she relished the strong smell. It should have repelled her, but it had the opposite effect. It was him, the man she had thought might be dead, and he was filling her nostrils and her lungs. She could have wept with joy.
Taking off his trousers would require removing his boots, and she could see that would be complicated, so she did not bother. She just unbuttoned his fly. She threw off her black silk robe and hiked her nightdress up to her waist, all the time staring with happy lust at the white penis sticking up out of the rough khaki cloth. Then she straddled him, easing herself down, and leaned forward and kissed him. "Oh, God," she said. "I can't tell you how much I've been longing for you."
She lay on him, not moving much, kissing him again and again. He held her face in his hands and stared at her. "This is real, isn't it?" he said. "Not just another happy dream?"
"It's real," she said.
"Good. I wouldn't like to wake up now."
"I want to stay like this forever."
"Nice idea, but I can't keep still much longer." He began to move under her.
"If you do that I'll come," she said.
And she did.
Afterward they lay on her bed for a long time, talking.
He had two weeks' leave. "Live here," she said. "You can visit your parents every day, but I want you at night."
