Her eyes came back to the room, to the poster of Carcassonne which Erica had brought back from her last trip to France, just before the war, and she said, "Because it was you and not me is no reason for me to let that side of Charles disappear again without a struggle. I don’t know what he’d do without you. If he should lose you, he’ll lose an outlet that he needs and that he’s never been able to find in anyone else".
She said quietly, "I want him to keep his outlet", and got up, adding on her way to the door, "as for you, I just want what every mother wants-I want you to be happy, to marry the right person, and not the wrong one".
"Mother", said Erica.
"Yes?"
"Won’t you meet Marc? Couldn’t we have lunch together some day, just the three of us?"
"Why?" she asked, pausing with her hand on the door-knob. "What difference would it make?"
"I don’t know", said Erica, dropping her eyes. "I just thought that you wouldn’t be so worried if you really knew him. I’m sure you’d like him…".
"Liking him would just make everything that much more complicated, wouldn’t it? The situation is awkward enough as it is. I don’t think I particularly care about meeting him now in any case. After all, he must have some idea of the damage he’s doing by this time".
"You don’t know how hard I work to keep him from finding out!" said Erica involuntarily.
"What do you mean?" asked her mother, staring at her. As Erica did not answer she said, "How hard you work to keep him from finding out the truth, is that it?"
"I told you Marc was the one who really needed to be convinced", said Erica after a pause.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about".
Her mother opened the door and Erica said, "You will meet him sometime, won’t you?"
"I don’t see how I can manage lunch very well. You know I always stay at the Red Cross, it takes too much time if I go out".
"All right", said Erica. "No harm in asking".
She realized that it was still Charles, and not her mother, but she was crying when Miriam wandered in through the communicating door between her bedroom and Erica’s.
Miriam was in slacks and a white shirt, carrying a glass of rye in one hand and a hairbrush and another glass of rye in the other. She put the first glass down in front of Erica on the dressing-table and retired to the window-seat, remarking, "Private stock. If this goes on, we’re all bound to take to drink sooner or later anyhow, and I thought it might just as well be sooner. How are things?" she inquired conversationally.
"Lousy, thank you", said Erica, drying her eyes.
"So I gathered. Is that a new dress? It looks nice, darling-I’ll say this for Marc Reiser, at least he’s got you out of suits".
She scrutinized Erica in silence for a while, absently brushing her dark hair, and then asked suddenly, "Would it make any difference if I came along some night? After all, I’m family-sort of", she added, qualifying it.
"Thanks, Mimi!"
"You don’t have to start crying all over again. Have a drink instead. And how about a cigarette?" She tossed one to Erica, lit one for herself, and observed, "I suppose you’ve heard the latest…".
"No, what?"
"The latest is that Mother and Charles are not going to take any holidays this summer because they’re so worried about you that they wouldn’t get any real rest anyhow, and they might just as well stay in town and go on working".
She inhaled deeply, blew out a long thin stream of smoke and added, shrugging, "Well, it’s probably true, but it’s still blackmail. This whole business is so damn silly, all they do is stay at home brooding about a man they don’t even know".
"It isn’t just that", said Erica. "Even if they knew him and liked him, he’d still be impossible".
"Yes, but not so impossible as he is now. People are funny", said Miriam gazing thoughtfully into space. "You’d think one problem would be enough, without going out of your way to invent a couple of extra ones. Most of what Charles says about Marc comes under the heading of pure invention, doesn’t it?"
"I guess so".
"He reminds me of someone erecting an ogre to frighten himself with".
A moment later she said idly, "Do you know what I’d do if I were you?"
Erica was sitting on the edge of her bed, completely discouraged, with her head and her shoulders down, and as she raised her eyes inquiringly but without much interest, Miriam said, "If I were you I’d get out".
"Why?" asked Erica, startled.
"Not for your own sake, but for Marc’s. I don’t know much about him, and maybe he’s so tough he can go on taking it, but there are other ways of knocking a man down than just hauling off and socking him!"
"What are you getting at?"
"Every time he meets you somewhere and every time he brings you home and leaves you on the door-step, it must get him down that much further, whether he realizes it or not. I think that is what Charles is counting on", she went on reflectively. "He’s banking on the probability that some day, Marc will get so far down that he’ll just quit".
"How did you know that?" demanded Erica.
"Oh", said Miriam, raising her eyebrows. "So I’m not the only one".
"I don’t mean about Charles. He can’t be doing it deliberately…".
"Why can’t he?"
"He thinks Marc is the aggressive type with a skin six inches thick".
"Oh, nuts", said Miriam.
"But Mimi, he doesn’t know what Marc is like. You’ve heard him on the subject of Marc often enough".
"A lot of that is eyewash put on for your benefit. Charles doesn’t really believe it; he did in the beginning but he doesn’t now. The only person who does is Mother. You see, Eric, the great thing about being temperamental, like Charles, is that when ninety-nine times in a row your outbursts against someone are genuine, nobody is likely to spot the hundredth as partly faked. I don’t mean that Charles isn’t sincere-just say that he’s letting himself be carried away by his own arguments. He may end up where he started by believing that Marc is just a ’cheap Jewish lawyer,’ as he so charmingly expresses it, but he doesn’t at the moment".
"Why not?"
"He’s been making a few judicial inquiries about Marc downtown and over at Divisional Headquarters…".
"But, Mimi, that makes all the difference", said Erica eagerly.
"Does it?"
"Of course it does. Good heavens, it means that…"
Miriam interrupted. She said flatly, "It means nothing. What good does it do Charles to hear Marc described as quite exceptional-for a Jewish lawyer? Or first-rate-for a Jewish officer? You don’t imagine any of them left out the word ’Jew,’ do you? Nobody ever does".
Erica sank back again. She said listlessly, "I suppose that was what Mother meant".
"Mother doesn’t know even that much. He hasn’t told her".
"Why?"
Miriam regarded her quizzically for a moment and said finally, "What’s the use of getting Mother all confused?"
She smoked for a while in silence and then remarked, "However, that’s not the point. If you think this atmosphere of concentrated disapproval is all you’re going to have to contend with, you’re crazy. Charles hasn’t finished with you yet, he hasn’t even started, and he’ll put up the fight of his life before he’ll hand you over to a Jewish lawyer-even if he is exceptional. And though you may be able to stand it, some of it is bound to get through to Marc sooner or later. Since he must have been getting it in one form or another all his life, my advice to you is to make up your mind whether you want Marc or Charles, because Charles isn’t going to allow you to have both of them, and if it’s Marc, then clear out where Charles can’t get at him and where you don’t have to leave him standing on the door-step".