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“And here she is!” Reynolds cried.

Mrs. Thomas Reynolds, who looked, in her simple black dress and single strand of pearls, as if she had been cast from the same mold as Mrs. Soames T. Browne, Daffy’s mother, came into the room from a side door.

“Here he is, Grace,” Reynolds said. “His horns are apparently retracted, so be nice to him.”

“You’re a wicked young man,” Grace Reynolds said.

“My mother doesn’t think so,” Matt said.

“And a smarty-pants to boot!”

“Grace, leave him alone!” Thomas Reynolds ordered.

“I’m only kidding, and he knows it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But whatever were you thinking about, keeping her out until all hours?”

“Well, we got pretty tied up in conversation,” Matt said. “I don’t often meet girls with such an intimate knowledge of hog belly futures. Time just flew!”

“Susan doesn’t know—” she began to protest, in confusion.

Reynolds laughed again, interrupting her. “He’s telling you, politely, to mind your own business, Grace. You may finally have met your match.”

“This is an occasion,” Grace Reynolds said, cheerfully changing the subject. “I think I’ll have a martini.”

Reynolds turned to make her one.

“Susan’ll be down in just a minute or two, Matt—you don’t mind if I call you by your Christian name, do you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Susan’s having her shower,” Mrs. Reynolds went on.

A quite clear image of Susan in her shower popped up in Matt’s brain.

Cool it. For one thing, she is not at all interested, and Wohl was right. It would be really stupid.

“That’s nice,” Matt said.

“I called her at work. I’m not supposed to do that, unless it’s important, but after I asked you to join us, I didn’t want her running off to the movies with a girlfriend, or anything.”

“And she was no doubt thrilled to hear I was coming?”

“Actually, it was more surprise than anything else, to tell you the truth,” she said.

Her husband handed her a martini, and then, suddenly, a warm smile appeared on his face.

“Princess!” he said.

Matt turned and saw Susan coming toward them. She was dressed like her mother, Matt thought, and then amended the thought: simple black dresses and single strands of pearls were very nearly a uniform for females of her age and social position.

Susan smiled—it looked genuine—and gave him her hand.

“A pleasant surprise, Matt,” she said.

“Ten thousand horsemen,” Matt said, very seriously, “and all the king’s men could not have kept me away.”

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