that night. He did not stir.
She took off her hat and her shoes, thought for a moment, and slipped off her jacket and skirt. Then, in her underwear and stockings, she lay down on the bed. She got her arms around his bony shoulders, put his head on her bosom, and held him. 'Everything's all right, now,' she said. 'You just sleep as long as you want. When you wake up, I'll still be here.'
Night fell. The temperature dropped. She closed the window and pulled a sheet around them. Soon after midnight, with her arms wrapped around his warm body, she fell asleep.
At dawn, when he had been asleep for twelve hours, he got up suddenly and went to the bathroom. He returned a couple of minutes later and got back into bed. He had taken off his suit and shirt, and wore only his underwear. He put his arms around her and hugged her. 'Something I forgot to tell you, something very important,' he said.
'What?'
'In France, I thought about you all the time. Every day.'
'Did you?' she whispered. 'Did you really?'
He did not answer. He had gone back to sleep.
She lay in his embrace, thinking about him in France, risking his life and remembering her; and she was so happy she felt her heart would burst.'
At eight o'clock in the morning, she went into the living room of the suite, phoned Q Building, and said she was sick. It was the first day she had taken off for illness in more than a year in the military. She had a bath and washed her hair, then got dressed. She ordered coffee and cornflakes from room service. The waiter called her Mrs. Lucas. She was glad it was not a waitress, for a woman would have noticed that she wore no wedding ring.
She thought the smell of coffee might wake Luke, but it did not. She read the Washington Post from cover to cover, even the sports pages. She was writing a letter to her mother hi Dallas, on hotel stationery, when he came stumbling out of the bedroom hi his underwear, his dark hair mussed, his jaw blue with stubble. She smiled at him, happy that he was awake.
He looked confused. 'How long did I sleep?'
She checked her wristwatch. It was almost noon. 'About eighteen hours.' She could not tell what he was thinking. Was he pleased to see her? Embarrassed? Was he wishing she would go away?
'God,' he said. 'I haven't slept like that for a year.'
He rubbed his eyes. 'Have you been here all the time? You look as fresh as a daisy.'
'I took a little nap.'
You stayed all night?'
You asked me to.'
He frowned. 'I seem to remember...' He shook his head. 'Boy, I had some dreams.' He went to the phone. 'Room service? Let me have a T-bone steak, rare, with three eggs, sunnyside up. Plus orange juice, toast and coffee.'
Billie frowned. She had never spent the night with a man, so she did not know what to expect in the morning, but this disappointed her. It was so unromantic that she felt almost insulted. She was reminded of her brothers waking up - they, too, emerged from sleep stumbly, grouchy and ravenous. But, she recalled, they generally improved when they had eaten.
'Hold on,' he said into the phone. He looked at Billie. 'Would you like something?'
'Yeah, some iced tea.'
He repeated her order and hung up.
He sat beside her on the couch. 'I talked a lot yesterday.'
'That's the truth.'
'How long?'
'About five hours straight.'
I'm sorry.'
'Don't be sorry. Whatever you do, please don't be sorry.' Tears came to her eyes. 'I'll never forget it as long as I live.'
He took her hands. 'I'm so glad we met again.'
Her heart jumped. 'Me, too.' This was more like what she had hoped for.
'I'd like to kiss you, but I've been in the same clothes for twenty-four hours.'
She felt a sudden sensation inside, like a spring breaking, and she was conscious of wetness. She was shocked at herself: it had never happened this fast before.
But she held back. She had not decided where she wanted this to go. She had had all night to make a' decision, but she had not even thought about it Now she was afraid that once she touched him she would lose control. And then what?
The war had brought about a new moral laxity in Washington, but she was not part of it She clasped her hands in her lap and said: 'I sure don't aim to kiss you until you're dressed.'
He gave her a skeptical look. 'Are you afraid of compromising yourself?'
She winced at the irony in his voice. 'Just what does that mean?' -
He shrugged. 'We spent the night together.'
She felt hurt and indignant. 'I stayed here because you begged me too!' she protested.
'All right, don't get mad.'
But her desire for him had turned, in a flash, to equally powerful anger. 'You were falling down with exhaustion, and I put you to bed,' she said wrathfully. 'Then you asked me not to leave you, so I stayed.'
'I appreciate it'
'Then don't talk as if I've acted like a ... whore!'
'That's not what I meant.'
'It sure is! You implied I've already compromised myself so' much that anything else I might do makes no difference.'
He gave a big sigh. 'Well, I didn't intend to imply that. Jesus, you're making a hell of a fuss about a casual remark.'
'Too dam casual.' The trouble was, she had compromised herself.
There was a knock at the door.
They looked at one another. Luke said: 'Room service, I guess.'
She did not want a waiter to see her with an undressed man. 'Get in the bedroom.'
'Okay.'
'First, give me your ring.'
He looked at his left hand. He wore a gold signet ring on the little finger. 'Why?'
'So the waiter will think I'm married.'
'But I never take it off.'
That angered her even more. 'Get out of sight,' she hissed.
He went into the bedroom. Billie opened the suite door and a waitress brought in the room-service cart. 'There you go, Miss,' she said.
Billie flushed. There was an insult in that 'Miss'. She signed the check but did not tip. 'There you go,' she said, and turned her back.
The waitress left. Billie heard the shower running. She felt exhausted. She had spent hours in the grip of a profound romantic passion, then in a few minutes it had turned sour. Luke was normally so gracious, yet he had metamorphosed into a bear. How could such things happen?
Whatever the reason, he had made her feel cheap. In a minute or two, he would come out of the bathroom, ready to sit down and have breakfast with her as if they were a married couple. But- they were not, and she was feeling more and more uncomfortable.
Well, she thought, if I don't like it, why am I still here? It was a good question.
She put on her hat. It was better to get out with what dignity she had left.
She thought about writing him a note. The sound of the shower stopped; He was about to reappear, smelling of soap, wearing a dressing gown, his hair wet and his feet bare, looking good enough to eat. There was no time for a note.
