“How long are you going to be here, Nat?”

“A week or two, maybe even a month. If it works out, I’ll take Sue back, spend a few days straightening out my things at the office, and leave her to pack or sell off the furniture and maybe stay on with the kids until the end of their semester. I’d return here, and she could follow me later.” He paused. “Under the new plan, I’d be living in Washington for three years.”

“That would be great, Nat.” Dilman grinned. “You’ll be living here longer than I will.” He ate slowly, thoughtfully. Then he said, “I think I was a little surprised when you wrote me about Avery Emmich’s offer, and that you were considering it. Didn’t I write you, asking you more about it? Maybe I didn’t. But even what you told me on the phone the other night doesn’t make it-well, entirely clear to me.”

“What do you mean, Doug?”

“You can’t live up on the Hill as long as I have without picking up a good deal of information about big business, big private enterprise. Not many come bigger than Eagles Industries. Nothing wrong with them, or any other corporation, except that Eagles isn’t notorious for being liberal or progressive. And Emmich, I gather, is a sort of throwback to Cornelius Vanderbilt, Astor, Gould. One of the public-be-damned gents, I always thought. Maybe I’m wrong. Anyway, I’ve found it hard to fit you into that framework. The mental pictures I have of you and Eagles don’t harmonize. I know I’m wrong.”

Abrahams put down his fork. “You’re right, Doug. I’ve been through all that, until my conscience collapsed of weariness. Doug, it comes down to this-I’ve looked into Eagles, and if I had found out they were crooks, real crooks, or special bastards, or anything like that, I’d have blown the deal immediately. They’re no better or worse than the rest of American big business. The anatomy is the same, always-hard head, no heart, all hands in a thousand tills, mechanized, automated, conservative, with a single goal-profits. Okay. The democracy we fight to save. Eagles Industries needs me, men like me, with the liberal lapel button. For them, that’s good business, too. And I-I need a fat patron, Doug, because I’m threadbare, and have responsibilities, and can’t get any more life insurance. If the patron is willing to let me get fat, too, without putting me on a leash, it’s a good deal.”

“No more life insurance, you said?”

Abrahams could see the flick of concern in his friend’s dark countenance. He shrugged. “I’m exaggerating, self-dramatizing. It wasn’t a real coronary, only a yellow light that warned me to slow down. I want to slow down before it turns red and stops me dead. Nothing serious, no sword hanging overhead, but I love Sue and I love those kids and I want that farm. So I’m playing it safe. I’m trading three years of doing what doesn’t particularly interest me for a lifetime of living, of puttering around with what does interest me, after those three years. That’s the whole of it, Doug.”

“I agree with your choice,” said Dilman solemnly. “I’d do exactly the same in your place. Have you seen Gorden Oliver yet?”

“Twice, briefly. He came to the hotel. We’re still trying to reach agreement on several of my recent demands.”

“What do you make of him?” Dilman asked.

“Oliver? I don’t know. I must say, he threw me off balance on first meeting. I always fall prey to preconceived notions of what people will be like-I should know better, and I do. Anyway, word association, you say lobbyist and I say rotund, foxy, devious, green-backs, call girls, et cetera. I was surprised to find him rather out-doorsy, literate, direct, a qualified attorney, a family man.”

Dilman had been listening to every word. “Yes, he’s all you found, Nat. He’s also a little, just a little, of what you expected him to be. He’s been in and out of my offices on the Hill, with talk, free information, free tickets and invitations, free services, free jokes, for years. I have no reason not to trust him or like him. He’s been useful to me at times. And registered lobbyists do as much good as harm. But somehow, even though he’s New England-I think he’s from Vermont-I keep remembering he is a company man and his company is headquartered in the South. Anyway, that’s nothing that need bother you, Nat. You are sharper than I am about people. You’ll stay on top of him.”

The waiters had returned, and were busily removing the empty plates and platters, and used silverware. Both men waited for the able to be cleared, and for the ice-cream cake and coffee to be served, so that they had their privacy once more.

Something had entered Abrahams’ mind, and would not go away. While he knew that his friend was sensitive and secretive about his personal relationships, Abrahams was curious and he determined to investigate one area. He had finished the dessert, and he filled his crusted, straight-stemmed pipe and lighted it, he said, as casually as possible, “Doug, I was thinking of what you were saying before about being lonely, and then I couldn’t help thinking of someone you’ve mentioned several times in your letters The lady you once introduced to Sue and me when we had dinner at your place. I mean Miss Gibson, Wanda Gibson.”

Dilman did not raise his head from his coffee. “What made you think of her?”

“As I said, your loneliness. I had a suspicion-Sue did, too, the night we met her-that you were fond of the young lady.”

“I am,” said Dilman.

“You still see her? I didn’t know. You haven’t mentioned her name in-why, I guess in over a year.”

“Aside from you, she’s been the person closest to me. Until now, we’ve kept company all the time. She’s very unusual.”

“Pretty, too,” Abrahams said, “and I thought sound and intelligent.”

“Yes, all that. Now I don’t know what’ll happen to us. This President thing came right down between us like-I was thinking recently-like a steel grill. You know, this is privileged talk, Nat, strictly, like everything else-but I tried to call on her alone tonight, first time since all that happened to me-it was awful-”

In a subdued, almost compulsive spate of recollection, Dilman recounted the details of his effort earlier in the evening to see Wanda alone at the Spingers’. He told of his offer to her of a job in the White House, and of her absolute refusal to accept one.

“That’s what happened,” Dilman concluded, “and here we are, wanting one another, and farther apart than ever before. I wish she weren’t so prideful. I’d give anything to have her in the White House.”

“Anything, Doug?”

Dilman looked up sharply, eyes narrowing. He started to retort, but did not. He waited.

The sensitive area, Abrahams thought. And then he thought, we’re either friends all the way or not at all. “You could have her here in an instant, Doug. It would take only four words: ‘Will you marry me?’ That’s the only anti-loneliness, Doug. Have you asked her?”

“No.”

“Okay, I can’t pry further.”

Dilman said, “It’s all right. If anyone has a right to ask, it’s you, Nat. I know you want to help me. But I can’t go into it. I haven’t gone into it deeply enough with myself. Maybe someday I’ll be able to discuss it with you. All I can say-the only explanation I can make is-well-I can’t see myself with Wanda in a big ceremonial state wedding in the White House. Having one lone colored man in the White House is churning up enough trouble. Maybe it’ll calm down, because they’ll see I’m sort of alone and inoffensive, not threatening to anyone. But a Negro man and his wife in this Southern mansion? That would be too much for them out there to take-too much, and I’m not ready for it. I know it’s a shameful infirmity in me, Nat, but it is an infirmity I can’t overcome, like a limb missing, and one simply can’t will that limb back on. I haven’t the strength of character.” Embarrassed, Dilman fumbled for a cigar. Abrahams watched him, leaned across the table corner to light the cigar, and then sat back.