«I know your friend,» she said casually.
«You know?» Hadija was surprised.
«Oh, yes. I’ve met him».
«Where?» asked Hadija skeptically.
«Oh, various places. At the Taylors’ on the Marshan, at the Sphinx Club once, and I think at the Estradas’ house on the mountain. He’s very nice».
Hadija was noncommittal. «O.K».
«If you want, you can ask him back here when you’ve finished your picnic».
«He no like come here».
«Oh, I don’t know,» said Eunice meditatively. «He might easily. I imagine he’d like a drink. Americans do, you know. I thought you might like to invite him, that’s all».
Hadija thought about it. The idea appealed to her because she considered the Hotel Metropole magnificent and luxurious, and she was tempted to let him see in what style she was living. She had set out for the Parque Espinel with that intention, but on the walk back with him it occurred to her (for the first time) that since the American seemed to be fully as possessive about her as Eunice Goode, he might not relish the discovery that he was sharing her with someone else. So she hastened to explain that Miss Goode was ill most of the time and that she often visited her. The possessiveness he manifested toward her had already prompted her to make the attempt to get him to buy her a certain wrist watch she greatly admired. Eunice had definitely refused to get it for her because it was a man’s watch — an oversize gold chronograph with calendar and phases of the moon thrown in. Eunice was eminently careful to see that the girl looked respectable and properly feminine. Hadija mentioned the watch twice on the way to the Metropole; the American merely smiled and said: «We’ll see. Keep your shirt on, will you?» She did not completely understand, but at least he had not said no.
When Dyar came into the room Eunice Goode looked at him and said to herself that even as a girl she would not have found him attractive. She had liked imposing men, such as her father had been. This one was not at all distinguished in appearance. He did not look like an actor or a statesman or an artist, nor yet like a workman, a businessman or an athlete. For some reason she thought he looked rather like a wire-haired terrier — alert, eager, suggestible. The sort of male, she reflected with a stab of anger, who can lead girls around by the nose, without even being domineering, the sort whose maleness is unnoticeable and yet so thick it becomes cloying as honey, the sort that makes no effort and is thereby doubly dangerous. Except that being accustomed to an ambiance of feminine adulation makes them as vulnerable, as easily crushed, as spoiled children are. You let them think that you too are taken in by their charm, you entice them further and further out on that rotten limb. Then you jerk out the support and let them fall.
Yet in her mad inner scramble to be exceptionally gracious, Eunice got off to rather a poor start. She had been away from most people for so long that she forgot there are many who actually listen to the words spoken, and for whom even mere polite conversation is a means of conveying specific ideas. She had planned the opening sentences with the purpose of keeping Hadija from discovering that this was her first meeting with the American gentleman. Wearing an old yellow satin neglige trimmed with mink (which Hadija had never seen before and which she immediately determined to have for herself), and being well covered by the bedclothes, she looked like any other stout lady sitting up in bed.
«This is a belated but welcome meeting!» she cried.
«How do you do, Miss Goode». Dyar stood in the doorway. Hadija pulled him gently forward and shut the door. He stepped to the bed and took the proffered hand.
«I knew your mother in Taormina,» said Eunice. «She was a delightful woman. Hadija, would you call downstairs and ask for a large bowl of ice and half a dozen bottles of Perrier? The whiskey’s in the bathroom on the shelf. There are cigarettes in that big box there. Draw that chair a little nearer».
Dyar looked puzzled. «Where?»
«What?» she said pleasantly.
«Where did you say you knew my mother?» It had not yet occurred to him that Eunice Goode did not know his name.
«In Taormina,» she said, looking at him blandly. «Or was it Juan-les-Pins?»
«It couldn’t have been,» Dyar said, sitting down. «My mother’s never been in Europe at all».
«Really?» She meant it to sound casual, but it sounded acid. To her, such stubborn insistence on exactitude was sheer boorishness. But there was no time for showing him she disapproved of his behavior, even if she had wanted to. Hadija was telephoning. Quickly she said: «Wasn’t your mother Mrs. Hambleton Mills? I thought that was what Hadija said».
«What?» cried Dyar, making a face indicating that he was all at sea. «Somebody’s all mixed up. My name is Dyar. D, Y, A, R. It doesn’t sound much like Mills to me». Then he laughed good-naturedly, and she joined in, just enough, she thought, to show that she bore him no ill-will for his rudeness.
«Well, now we have that settled,» she said. She had his name; Hadija believed they had known each other before. She pressed on, to get as many essentials as possible while Hadija was still chattering in Spanish to the barman.
«Passing through on a winter holiday, or are you staying a while?»
«Holiday? Nothing like it. I’m staying a while. I’m working here».
She had expected that. «Oh, really? Where?»
He told her. «I can’t quite place it,» she said, shutting her eyes as if she were trying.
Hadija put the receiver on the hook and brought a bottle of whiskey from the bathroom. Suddenly Dyar became conscious of the fact that preparations were being made for the serving of drinks. He half rose from his chair, and sat down again on its edge.
«Look, I can’t stay. I didn’t realize — I’m sorry» —
«Can’t stay?» echoed Eunice, faintly dismayed.
«I have an appointment at my hotel. I’ve got to get back. Hadija told me you were sick so I just thought I’d stop by. She said you wanted me to come».
«So I did. But I don’t call this a visit».
The waiter had come in, set the tray on the table, and gone out.
«I know». He was not sure which would be less impolite, — to accept one drink and then go, or to leave without taking anything.
«One quick drink,» Eunice urged him. He accepted it.
Hadija had ordered a Coca-Cola. She was rather pleased to see her two protectors in the same room talking together. She wondered if it were dangerous. After all, Eunice knew about the man and did not seem to mind. It was possible that he would not care too much if he knew about Eunice. But she would certainly prefer him not to know. She became conscious of their words.
«Where you go?» she interrupted.
«Home,» he said, without looking at her.
«Where you live?»
Eunice smiled to herself: Hadija was doing her work for her. But then she clicked her tongue with annoyance. The girl had bungled it; he had been put off.
«Too far,» he had answered drily.
«Why you go there?» Hadija pursued.
Now he turned to face her. «Curiosity killed a cat,» he said with mock sternness. «I’m going to a party, Nosey». He laughed. To Eunice he said: «What a girl, what a girl! But she’s nice in spite of it».
«I don’t know about that,» Eunice replied, as if giving the matter thought. «I don’t think so, at all, as a matter of fact. I’ll talk to you about it some time. Did you say a party?» She remembered that the Beidaouis were at home on Sunday evenings. «Not at the Beidaoui Palace?» she hazarded.