I shook my head. "Not entirely."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there are a few people around who aren't very fond of us, remember? There's a death to be paid for, and, as I recall, we used to make a point of paying those debts whenever possible, as a matter of principle. It seems unlikely they'll be more lenient. Anyway, we're bait, kid, and bait is always expendable. Let's not worry about my future until we're sure I've got one."

SAN Antonio was a big surprise to me. Remembering the sprawling, smog-bound horror the supposedly somewhat civilized Californians have perpetrated, under the name of Los Angeles, in a coastal region that must have been quite beautiful to start with, I hadn~t really been looking forward to seeing what a bunch of crude Texans had managed to cook up in a rather arid and unpromising corner of their native state.

What I found was a nice old city with some of the unfortunate trappings of what's known as urban progress, but also with a better than average nucleus of pleasant old crooked streets and picturesque old buildings and plazas; and with a pretty river wandering through the busiest business section, rather like a toddler turned loose in Daddy's office. We drove around a bit to let me get the feel of the place, and I tried to act like a writer looking for material. We finally located the hotel we'd called for reservations, near the historic Alamo.

The uniformed doorman didn't bat an eye at the sight of my 1951 truck with its businesslike snow tires, camping canopy and spare water and gas cans. It's one of the advantages of traveling west of the Mississippi: you can drive something practical without being sent around to the service entrance.

After getting settled in our room, and cleaning up a bit we went out on foot to have another look at the town. I hung a camera around my neck, thinking to get some shots of the Alamo and other points of interest, but instead I spent the afternoon helping Tina pick out a skirt-and-blouse outfit for traveling and a sexy dress to wear out to dinner. This is supposed to be a hell of an ordeal for a man, but I don't see why it should be. To have an attractive woman-one you've made love to and expect to make love to again-parade herself before you in a variety of seductive dresses, asking for your approval, can be very interesting, kind of like the love dance of the peacock in reverse. Anyway, if you're going to have to look at her, why pass up the chance to exercise some control over her appearance?

The dress we got was sexy all right. She modeled it for me again that evening while I was tying my tie. It was soft, white wool, with a high neck and long sleeves.

I put the mink about her, turned her around, and looked her up and down. She didn't seem to have much slack.

"Can you walk," I asked, "or should I get a bellboy with a dolly and have him trundle you to the elevator?"

She laughed. "It is better than those jean pants, hem? Now you may kiss me, but do not muss me-that we will save for later. First we will eat and get comfortably drunk. What is the name of this place you were told about?"

"I've got it written down," I said. "Don't ask me to pronounce it. I never could handle French gracefully, not even when my life depended on it, and that was quite a while ago… Tina?"

"Yes, chйri?"

"Did you get the impression we were followed this afternoon?"

She glanced at me. "I do not think so. It was hard to tell, walking, with all the traffic. If it was done, it was done well, by many different people. Did you see anyone?"

I shook my head. "No familiar faces. Well, maybe they've been called off. I wonder..

She patted my cheek. "Wonder tomorrow. Not tonight. This is a nice town and we are going to have a fine time."

"Sure," I said. '~But I could relax a lot better if Mac would turn up and give me the answer to a few simple questions."

The recommended place turned out to be small and exquisite and very, very French. They provided setups for the whiskey I'd brought along in a paper-wrapped bottle, Texas style. If you spent a lot of time in the state, I reflected, it would almost pay you to invest in a flask. I learned that Tina had developed into quite a gourmet since I'd last known her. She went into a huddle with the waiter, the head-waiter, and the wine steward, all of whom loved her because she could speak perfect French-and, of course, the fact that she wasn't bad to look at in that white dress didn't turn them against her. They settled upon roast capon with mushrooms. A capon, I gathered, is to a rooster what a steer is to a bull. In theory, it hardly seemed worth while to go to all that trouble for a mere chicken; in practice, the idea proved to have a lot of merit. The wine, I was told, was a special vintage from a certain great year, I forget which one. All in all, it was quite a production, and one that threw some doubt on my mental picture of Texans as a people living exclusively on tough range beef. To be sure, the stuff was being cooked and served by Frenchmen, but the natives around us seemed to be putting it down with enthusiasm.

We'd arrived in a taxi, since it seemed simpler and more elegant than getting the truck out of hocki Riding back, we did not speak for a while. Then I wriggled uncomfortably.

"What is the matter, Liebchen?"

"This damn big bottle," I said, pulling it out of my coat pocket. I laid it aside. Then I turned and drew her to me and kissed her hard.

Presently-but not immediately, by any means-Tina made a small sound of protest and drew away.

"Please, darling!" she whispered breathlessly. "Remember that you must leave me in condition to walk through the lobby of that respectable hotel past all those respectable people!"

I said, "The hell with respectable people. Let's tell the guy to drive through the park for a while. They've got to have a park in this town, somewhere."

I was kidding, I guess, but with whiskey and wine to encourage me, I don't suppose I'd have backed down if she'd agreed, even though the back seat of a taxi would surely have cramped my style. She hesitated a moment, considering the idea with real interest; then she laughed, took my face in her hands, kissed me on the mouth, and pushed me away.

"Ah, we are not children," she said. "We have the dignity and the self-control. We can wait a few minutes. Besides, I do not really think there is room here."

I grinned, and she laughed again, and raised herself from the seat so that she could tug her dress down where it belonged. She rearranged her furs, and drew me close to her.

"It is not so far now," she said. "Eric."

"Yes."

"I waited for you. After the war. Why did you not come?"

I didn't answer at once. Then I said, "I could lie and say I couldn't make it because I was in the hospital. But it wouldn't be true."

"No," she said. "You met a girl, did you not. And she was sweet and soft and innocent, and she had never seen a dead man, except perhaps in an antiseptic hospital bed."

"That's right," I said. "And I told Mac I was quitting, and I married her and deliberately put it all behind me, you with the rest."

"Yes," she said. "It was what you should have done. It was what I would have wished for you, my dear. And now I have spoiled it."

"Maybe," I said. "But you had some help from me."

She was silent for a while. Presently she took out a handkerchief and turned my face towards her and scrubbed my mouth. Then she took out comb and lipstick and worked on herself for a while. She held the purse up a little longer, studying the mirror.

"I wonder," she said, "if you had come for me. Well, it is no use wondering, is it?"

"Not much," I said.

She said, "You know, of course, that we are being followed again."