«So you and Arnold are going to make money together. Has it occurred to you to wonder how Rachel might feel?»
«Aren't you after Rachel?»
«What makes you imagine that?»
«Rachel told Arnold you were.»
«Rachel told Arnold I was after her?»
«Yes. They had a good laugh together.»
«You're lying,» I said. I left the room. Christian called after me, «Brad, let's be friends, please.»
I had reached the front door with some general intention of going to fetch Priscilla and with a more immediate need to get away from Christian when the bell rang. I opened the door at once and there was Arnold.
He gave a well-prepared smile, apologetic, ironical, rueful.
I said, «Your business partner is here.»
«So she told you?»
«Yes. You're going into lingerie. Come in.»
«Hello, honey,» said Christian behind me, welcoming Arnold. They trooped into the sitting-room, and after a moment's hesitation I followed them. Christian, who was still putting her shoes on, was wearing a handsome cotton dress of an exceptionally vivid shade of green. Of course I could see now that she was Jewish: that curvy clever mouth, that wily rounded-off nose, those veiled snaky eyes. She was as handsome as her dress, a queen in Israel.
I said to Arnold, «Did you know that she was Jewish?»
«Who? Christian? Of course. I found it out on our first meeting.»
«How?»
«I asked.»
«Brad thinks we're having some sort of romance,» said Christian.
«Look,» said Arnold, «there's nothing between Chris and me except friendship. You've heard of that, haven't you?»
«It can't exist between a man and a woman,» I said. I had only just, with sudden clairvoyance, realized this for certain.
«It can if they're intelligent enough,» said Christian.
«Married people can't have friendships,» I said. «If they do, they're faithless.»
«Don't worry about Rachel,» said Arnold.
«But I do, oddly enough. I felt very worried about her when I saw her the other day with a black eye you'd given her.»
