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                            of teasing him pressed the button that brought it down. Then on what
                            was more than an impulse she got into it and sent it up to what she
                            guessed was his floor.
                                  "Anson," she called, laughing a little.
                                  "Just a minute," he answered from his bedroom ... then after a
                            brief delay: "Now you can come in."
                                  He had changed and was buttoning his vest.
                                  "This is my room," he said lightly. "How do you like it?"
                                  She caught sight of Paula's picture on the wall and stared at it in
                            fascination, just as Paula had stared at the pictures of Anson's childish
                            sweethearts  five  years  before.  She  knew  something  about  Paula  -
                            sometimes she tortured herself with fragments of the story.
                                  Suddenly  she  came  close  to  Anson,  raising  her  arms.  They
                            embraced. Outside the area window a soft artificial twilight already
                            hovered,  though  the  sun  was  still  bright  on  a  back  roof  across  the
                            way. In half an hour the room would be quite dark. The uncalculated
                            opportunity overwhelmed them, made them both breathless, and they
                            clung  more  closely.  It  was  imminent,  inevitable.  Still  holding  one
                            another, they raised their heads – their eyes fell together upon Paula's
                            picture, staring down at them from the wall.
                                  Suddenly Anson dropped his arms, and sitting down at his desk
                            tried the drawer with a bunch of keys.
                                  "Like a drink?" he asked in a gruff voice.
                                  "No, Anson."
                                  He poured himself half a tumbler of whiskey, swallowed it, and
                            then opened the door into the hall.
                                  "Come on," he said.
                                  Dolly hesitated.
                                  "Anson - I'm going to the country with you tonight, after all.
                            You understand that, don't you?"
                                  "Of course," he answered brusquely.
                                  In  Dolly's  car  they  rode  on  to  Long  Island,  closer  in  their
                            emotions  than  they  had  ever  been  before.  They  knew  what  would
                            happen –  not with Paula's face  to remind  them that something was
                            lacking, but when they were alone in the still, hot Long Island night
                            they did not care.
                                  The  estate  in  Port  Washington  where  they  were  to  spend  the
                            week-end  belonged  to  a  cousin  of  Anson's  who  had  married  a
                            Montana copper operator. An interminable drive began at the lodge
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