“What time was this train?”
“I got it here in Bridgeport at nine fifty-three. It was the William Penn. It goes to Penn Station.” She dabbed at her eyes and brushed her red, wet cheeks. “I sat next to a woman who got off at Stamford and then John got on. He took her seat and we started talking. He was such a nice man, so friendly and charming. I don’t know when I’ve met a man half as charming as he was. Not for a long long time. He was interested in me. I don’t know why. I’m not the type who interests men, but he did seem to like me.” She wept a little more. “I’m not a cheap flirt,” she explained. “I don’t go around letting strange men pick me up, but he was so nice and he invited me to go dancing with him. I couldn’t. I was going to visit my sister, and I couldn’t. But he said he wanted to see me. He didn’t want it to end right there.” She paused and braced herself. “I didn’t want it to either. I don’t know any men and—I suggested that maybe he could come to my sister’s, but he didn’t like that. He said he wanted to see me alone, not with a lot of other people. He said we couldn’t get to know each other with a lot of other people around. I didn’t know what to do. I had to go to my sister’s. I couldn’t let her down when I was going to see her.
“And then the train came into the station and I was afraid it was all going to be over and it was going to be good-by. I was feeling pretty low because I thought—well, I don’t have any boy friends and here was this wonderful, charming man, and he was going to say good-by and it would be just as though we’d never met. I thought Fate had meant us to meet and now it looked like— like the end. But he felt the same way. That’s what he said. When we got off the train, he said, ‘I’m not going to let it end like this,’ and he said that if he couldn’t take me out this evening, at least we’d have a drink before I had to go to my sister’s.
“I was so glad—well, I—it meant something. He took me to some quiet cocktail lounge which was very romantic. I don’t know the name of it. It was around Times Square, I think. I don’t know New York very well. We talked and it was like we’d known each other all our lives and I got very bold and asked if he couldn’t see me while I was visiting my sister and he said he couldn’t. He had engagements and all and he asked when I was going back and when I told him Sunday night, he said he was going back Sunday too.
“And then, somehow, I don’t know how it came about, he was suggesting I go back with him and go to his place. He said he’d parked his car in Stamford and he lived in Stockford and we could ride back on the train together and pick up the car and go there. Of course I knew what he was proposing and I guess I should have been horrified, but I wasn’t, really. I don’t mean I wanted to do anything like that, but I wasn’t shocked. I said I couldn’t, of course, but he was so nice I wasn’t angry. The way he did it kind of made me feel flattered, because it was obvious he was a ladies’ man and this was the way his mind worked and I knew he could invite dozens of girls back to his house and they’d all go, so it was really flattering that he should ask me.
“I guess I didn’t say ‘no’ strongly enough. I wasn’t mad and I just said I couldn’t and then he asked why and I said I kept house for my father and he was expecting me home Sunday night and I had to get breakfast for him Monday morning before he went to work. He didn’t see why my father couldn’t get his own breakfast just one morning and I couldn’t really either. He said I was just making excuses and that he thought I’d liked him and he must have been mistaken. I told him I did like him, but what he was proposing, well, I didn’t think I ought to. He smiled and asked me if I was afraid of him. I said I wasn’t, so then he told me I was afraid of life. He asked me if I’d ever had an affair before and I had to say I hadn’t. It made me feel very foolish saying that because it meant I was very gauche and unattractive to men and I got red in the face and wanted to cry.
“He put his hand on mine and said that it didn’t matter, that most women had had affairs by the time they’d reached my age, but that many of them had had too many affairs and it was better to have too few than to be promiscuous and have too many. I nodded and then he said that, even so, a girl ought to have one, at least. He said that time was fleeting and if I didn’t grab life when I had the chance, I might miss everything and regret it as
