If anything, I was glad she was enjoying herself, and I knew that John was a fine man in many ways. He is also handsome and witty. Anyway, it made me think about Celia, and her earlier interest in flirting with me; alas, my thought ended there, for when I saw her inside in a noisy group of men and women I realized she had had far too much to drink, so that she was not only unattractive (few things can be uglier, to me, than a drunken woman) but obviously incapable of any real affection. Only a little disappointed I went across to the bar to help Margot, our hostess, who was filling in for the barman, who'd been engaged only till midnight.

Margot was a "femme fatale” — a long, black, tight-fitting satin gown with low decolletage, a side slit almost up to the hip, a fancy, beribboned garter above the black-stockinged knee of the exposed leg, and garish makeup with half-inch long false eyelashes. She was loaded with glittering costume jewelery and sprinkled with a heady scent. A fun woman, and most hospitable. "Hi, Frank!" she called out. "Got a run in your stockings yet?”

I grinned at her, put my arm round her waist, and said, “If I have you'll lend me another pair, won't you?"

She pulled a face. “Get rid of these empty bottles for me, will you, darling?" I helped her for ten minutes or so. I complimented her on the success of her party, and when she said that some people drank too much I had to agree with her. She knew I meant Celia. Feeling quite tired by now (it had been a particularly busy day for me before I could get round to adorning myself for the party several hours before), I then told her I'd like to go home, if she would excuse me, and would she see that Alison was all right. "John will bring her home, I'm sure," I confided in her.

"Oh, she'll be all right," Margot assured me, rather too emphatically. She saw me to the door, kissed me affectionately good night, and I turned to get into my car. Just as I was about to move off Margot dashed out to me with, "Your handbag, sweetheart!" leaning through the window to share an even more affectionate kiss. I drove the short distance home, paid off the baby-sitter, and flopped into an easy chair in the clear- aired quiet of our living room. In a while I stirred myself to mix a night- cap of good scotch, added a small log to the low wood fire, and began to feel less tired. It was nearly one o'clock.

78