drink in one hand, and a book in the other. In shorts and halter, she was soaking up the sunshine — upside down.
Cain groaned and walked away from the telescope muttering about infernal machines and his lack of privacy. He glared at Honor. “Peeping Godiva.”
She said for the second time, “What’s the matter with me that you have to go hauling practically a stranger onto your boat? And only one bed, too.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Honor. It’s just that I’m in Lisa’s debt.”
Honor pouted a little. “Can I move in when you’re in my debt, too, Cain?”
He said irritably, “Damn it, because she chose to help us last night she’s lost her business and her place to live and she’s broke. Toby owned almost everything she had.”
“Serves her right,” Honor said. Then she kicked at the rooftop with her toe. “No, it doesn’t, really. That was mean.” She looked at Cain, her eyes big. “But why does everyone get mixed up with Toby?”
“If I knew,” Cain said, “I’d have some answers to things I don’t understand.”
She looked a little sad. “Cain, why did you come today?”
“To see how you were and to tell you that Paula — it wasn’t true what Toby said.” He told her of the rest in such a way that there was no shock.
“I’m glad I didn’t see it,” she said. “He’s such a beast.”
Cain moved in without waiting any longer. “You were going to tell me something last night before you went to sleep.”
She picked a cigarette from a table and lit it. “About Paula, wasn’t it?”
She was teasing him again. He nodded warily. She said, “It was just that I saw her yesterday evening, just at dark.”
“Here?”
“I won’t tell you,” she said. “But I’ll show you.”
Cain took a deep breath. “Look, child, this is no longer a joke.”
“I’m no child and I’m not joking, Cain.” She put down the cigarette and walked up to him, tilting her head to look in his face. Her impish expression was gone except for the parts she couldn’t erase without refuting nature. “I’m serious, Cain. Do you think I’m going to let that — that woman take you away from me?”
Cain felt himself writhing inwardly with violent embarrassment. He looked off at the Sound, a tracery of whitecaps on the sparkling blue surface. He looked at the timber, rustling gently in the breeze. There was no comfort from either of them. He said, “But you haven’t got me!” His voice was anguished.
“I’m going to have,” she informed him flatly. “I’m going to have.”
He looked into her face. She might be nineteen going on twenty and as unconscious of her nudity as a three-year-old child but there was no immaturity in her expression or in her eyes at the moment. She was very much a woman, a determined one. Cain could only gulp.
“Why?” he demanded. “Why me?”
Honor stepped back a pace. “Because you’re the only intelligent and mature man that ever interested me, that’s why.”
Cain understood now and he felt sorry for her. His embarrassment ebbed away, leaving him more able to handle the situation — so he thought. This would pass, of course, and someday she would catch up with herself: her emotional life would mature enough to reach her mind. But right now she was in an uncomfortable position, wanting emotional maturity and having none. She was reduced by her age and status to going with fraternity men and their ilk. And Cain was sure they were no brighter nor older in outlook than they had been in his day. Or she could take the young-old men who hung around campuses, the seedy men, the burning radicals, the unwashed poets. They weren’t any improvement.
“I’m a free man,” Cain said gently. “I intend to stay that way.”
But the gentle approach appeared to be without effect. “Only for a little while,” she said. Her eyes said, “Cain, you’re doomed.”
She wanted him, he thought, like she wanted her mountain and a new telescope. He said,
Cain groaned and walked away from the telescope muttering about infernal machines and his lack of privacy. He glared at Honor. “Peeping Godiva.”
She said for the second time, “What’s the matter with me that you have to go hauling practically a stranger onto your boat? And only one bed, too.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Honor. It’s just that I’m in Lisa’s debt.”
Honor pouted a little. “Can I move in when you’re in my debt, too, Cain?”
He said irritably, “Damn it, because she chose to help us last night she’s lost her business and her place to live and she’s broke. Toby owned almost everything she had.”
“Serves her right,” Honor said. Then she kicked at the rooftop with her toe. “No, it doesn’t, really. That was mean.” She looked at Cain, her eyes big. “But why does everyone get mixed up with Toby?”
“If I knew,” Cain said, “I’d have some answers to things I don’t understand.”
She looked a little sad. “Cain, why did you come today?”
“To see how you were and to tell you that Paula — it wasn’t true what Toby said.” He told her of the rest in such a way that there was no shock.
“I’m glad I didn’t see it,” she said. “He’s such a beast.”
Cain moved in without waiting any longer. “You were going to tell me something last night before you went to sleep.”
She picked a cigarette from a table and lit it. “About Paula, wasn’t it?”
She was teasing him again. He nodded warily. She said, “It was just that I saw her yesterday evening, just at dark.”
“Here?”
“I won’t tell you,” she said. “But I’ll show you.”
Cain took a deep breath. “Look, child, this is no longer a joke.”
“I’m no child and I’m not joking, Cain.” She put down the cigarette and walked up to him, tilting her head to look in his face. Her impish expression was gone except for the parts she couldn’t erase without refuting nature. “I’m serious, Cain. Do you think I’m going to let that — that woman take you away from me?”
Cain felt himself writhing inwardly with violent embarrassment. He looked off at the Sound, a tracery of whitecaps on the sparkling blue surface. He looked at the timber, rustling gently in the breeze. There was no comfort from either of them. He said, “But you haven’t got me!” His voice was anguished.
“I’m going to have,” she informed him flatly. “I’m going to have.”
He looked into her face. She might be nineteen going on twenty and as unconscious of her nudity as a three-year-old child but there was no immaturity in her expression or in her eyes at the moment. She was very much a woman, a determined one. Cain could only gulp.
“Why?” he demanded. “Why me?”
Honor stepped back a pace. “Because you’re the only intelligent and mature man that ever interested me, that’s why.”
Cain understood now and he felt sorry for her. His embarrassment ebbed away, leaving him more able to handle the situation — so he thought. This would pass, of course, and someday she would catch up with herself: her emotional life would mature enough to reach her mind. But right now she was in an uncomfortable position, wanting emotional maturity and having none. She was reduced by her age and status to going with fraternity men and their ilk. And Cain was sure they were no brighter nor older in outlook than they had been in his day. Or she could take the young-old men who hung around campuses, the seedy men, the burning radicals, the unwashed poets. They weren’t any improvement.
“I’m a free man,” Cain said gently. “I intend to stay that way.”
But the gentle approach appeared to be without effect. “Only for a little while,” she said. Her eyes said, “Cain, you’re doomed.”
She wanted him, he thought, like she wanted her mountain and a new telescope. He said,
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