Read Online Eve by James Hadley Chase - Free Book Online Page A

I thought of her and Carol. Eve was a wanton. While Carol was good in the sense that she was reliable, sincere, honest and lived by a code of sound ethics, I doubted if Eve even knew what ethics meant. This was as good a comparison as any. I had left Carol, lied to her even, to have a few minutes with Eve. Why had I done that? If I could answer that, I could answer Carol.
    “A wanton has some qualities which a good woman lacks,” I said slowly. “Those qualities — they’re not necessarily good ones — appeal to the primitive instinct in man. Men lag behind women in controlling their instincts and as long as women have better control, so will men go after wantons. All the same, a man doesn’t want a wanton for any length of time. She’s here today and gone tomorrow.”
    Carol said sharply,” Absolute rubbish, Clive, and you know it.”
    I looked blankly at her. There was an expression in her eyes that I hadn’t seen before. She was hurt, angry and ready for a fight.
    “I don’t disagree with Mr Thurston myself,” Gold said conplacently. He took a large cigar from his case and examined it thoughtfully. “Men’s instincts are important.”
    “They have nothing to do with it,” Carol snapped. “I’ll tell you why men prefer wantons.” She glanced over at Peter as if to exclude him from the conversation. “I’m talking now about the majority of men who, if they are let off the lead, rush off and behave like promiscuous puppies. I’ve no quarrel with the minority of men who have set themselves a standard of moral behaviour and refuse to depart from it.”
    “My dear Carol,” I protested, realizing that this could easily be a personal attack. “You ought to be in a pulpit.”
    “She’d look charming in a pulpit,” Gold said, handing his cigar to a waiter to pierce. “Let her go on.”
    “A man prefers a wanton because he is vain,” Carol said, speaking directly at me. “A wanton is usually decorative. She is sophisticated and glamorous. Men like to be seen with that kind of woman because their friends envy them . . . the poor saps. A wanton is usually without brains. She doesn’t need them, of course. All she needs is a pretty face, a nice pair of legs, smart clothes and willingness.”
    “You think men are more at their ease if women haven’t brains?” Gold asked.
    “You know they are, R.G.,” Carol said shortly. “Don’t think you can pull wool over my eyes. You’re as bad as any of them.”
    Gold’s yellow face softened into a smile. “Go on,” he said. “You haven’t finished, have you?”
    “It makes me tired to see the worthless women men drag around with them. That’s all most men think of . . . looks, dress and bodies. A girl who hasn’t looks is nowhere in Hollywood. It is disgusting.”
    “Never mind that. Keep to wantons,” Peter said, his eyes alight with interest.
    “All right . . . wantons. A man dislikes his woman to know more than he does. That’s where a wanton scores. She’s lazy by nature and she’s no time to be anything else but wanton. She has no other subject to talk about but herself, her clothes, her troubles and, of course, her looks. Man likes that. He has no competition. If he wants to, he can be patronizing. He’s a little tin god to himself, although, the wanton probably thinks he’s a bore. All she’s after is a good time and what she can get out of him.”
    “Very interesting,” Gold said, “But where is the picture idea? I don’t see it.”
    “A satire on men,” Carol said. “Angles in Sables” is a grand title. Never mind about Clive’s plot. Use the title, and let him write a hundred per cent satire about men. Think how the women would eat it . . . after all, women are our public.”
    Gold glanced across at me. “What do you say?”
    I was staring at Carol. She had given me an idea. She had done more than that. She had fired my imagination which had been dead since I wrote my last book. I knew now what I was going to do. It had