don’t we break for lunch? I’d invite you to the apartment, but I’m expecting someone there. You’ll find the hotel good—the Du Pont, I mean. Quite good, as a matter of fact. Damned good.”
“The Du Pont is fine. I’ll be staying there.”
After lunch I said: “If you insist on downtown Washington—and though I’m caught by surprise, I have to admit it does make sense—I would say you should buy us a building, let me take two floors, and rent out the rest. I wouldn’t think the right place would be too hard to find.”
“Okay, will you handle it?”
“I’ll do my best and keep you informed.”
What he meant, I wasn’t quite sure of, because if finding a building for him was what he had in mind, I knew no more about buildings than a new-born grasshopper did. But that seemed to be it, and I added: “I think I should give you a weekly progress report, with discussions in between—if, as, and when.”
“Where’d you get that expression—‘if, as, and when’?”
“It’s one my mother was fond of. Why?”
“It’s one bankers use.”
“She was quite a banker herself. I wouldn’t say she was fond of money, but money was fond of her.”
“Money’s no fool.”
He looked at me sharply, and from there on in, I thought his manner toward me changed.
The next day we assembled at his office for the trip down to Dover—Ned Bramwell, his top Delaware lawyer; four or five men from his office who were to sign as incorporators, and Sam Dent, chief lawyer for the entire ARMALCO outfit, who had come up from Washington. He was the pleasantest discovery of the trip. Older than me, around forty-five, I’d say, but tall, well bred and dressed—definitely my kind of guy. We took to each other at once, but from the look on his face when the Institute was mentioned, I knew he had pretty well guessed the relationship between its patron saint and the man who was going to direct it. We drove to Dover in two cars, I in the front seat with Dent in his car, the two youngest men from the office in back, and the rest in Bramwell’s car. The whole process took no more than an hour as we moved from office to office in the capitol, signing and shuffling papers. Once there was a slip I had to sign, which I did. Then we had a late lunch. Bramwell took his gang off, and Dent and I had a long drink and talk. It turned out that he had seen me play football. We drove back to Wilmington and he dropped me off at the Du Pont. I called Mr. Garrett to ask him when he wanted to see me, but he said we were done. “However,” he said, “keep in touch, will you—if, as, and when? And get on that building at once.”
“I shall indeed, sir.”
But my heart was already jumping with the anticipation of seeing her that night.
9
T HE SMELL OF ROAST beef rose in my nose as soon as I unlocked the door. No light was on, but a hand raised up from behind one of the sofas and a voice said huskily: “Well, hello, hello!”
I was hungry for her. My arms ached for her, and hers went around me as I knelt to press her close, inhale her, pat her, and at last kiss her. She whispered: “We’re eating in tonight—roast beef, which won’t be a surprise; as you must be able to smell it. But everything else will be. I promise you, though, it will be just right for what ought to go with it.”
I knew nothing to say to that except hold her closer. She moved so I could sit beside her, and then I saw the gingham apron she had on over her dress. I laughed, and she asked: “Well, what’s so funny? I love you, that’s all.”
“It makes you look cute.”
“It makes me want to snuggle.”
“Okay, then snuggle.”
So she snuggled and time went by. At last she drew a deep breath and said it was time to talk. “I’m so proud of you,” she said.
“What have I done for you to be proud of?”
“The impression you made on him. He called to tell me.”
“What impression?”
“You said no to him, for one thing. He’s so used to yes
“The Du Pont is fine. I’ll be staying there.”
After lunch I said: “If you insist on downtown Washington—and though I’m caught by surprise, I have to admit it does make sense—I would say you should buy us a building, let me take two floors, and rent out the rest. I wouldn’t think the right place would be too hard to find.”
“Okay, will you handle it?”
“I’ll do my best and keep you informed.”
What he meant, I wasn’t quite sure of, because if finding a building for him was what he had in mind, I knew no more about buildings than a new-born grasshopper did. But that seemed to be it, and I added: “I think I should give you a weekly progress report, with discussions in between—if, as, and when.”
“Where’d you get that expression—‘if, as, and when’?”
“It’s one my mother was fond of. Why?”
“It’s one bankers use.”
“She was quite a banker herself. I wouldn’t say she was fond of money, but money was fond of her.”
“Money’s no fool.”
He looked at me sharply, and from there on in, I thought his manner toward me changed.
The next day we assembled at his office for the trip down to Dover—Ned Bramwell, his top Delaware lawyer; four or five men from his office who were to sign as incorporators, and Sam Dent, chief lawyer for the entire ARMALCO outfit, who had come up from Washington. He was the pleasantest discovery of the trip. Older than me, around forty-five, I’d say, but tall, well bred and dressed—definitely my kind of guy. We took to each other at once, but from the look on his face when the Institute was mentioned, I knew he had pretty well guessed the relationship between its patron saint and the man who was going to direct it. We drove to Dover in two cars, I in the front seat with Dent in his car, the two youngest men from the office in back, and the rest in Bramwell’s car. The whole process took no more than an hour as we moved from office to office in the capitol, signing and shuffling papers. Once there was a slip I had to sign, which I did. Then we had a late lunch. Bramwell took his gang off, and Dent and I had a long drink and talk. It turned out that he had seen me play football. We drove back to Wilmington and he dropped me off at the Du Pont. I called Mr. Garrett to ask him when he wanted to see me, but he said we were done. “However,” he said, “keep in touch, will you—if, as, and when? And get on that building at once.”
“I shall indeed, sir.”
But my heart was already jumping with the anticipation of seeing her that night.
9
T HE SMELL OF ROAST beef rose in my nose as soon as I unlocked the door. No light was on, but a hand raised up from behind one of the sofas and a voice said huskily: “Well, hello, hello!”
I was hungry for her. My arms ached for her, and hers went around me as I knelt to press her close, inhale her, pat her, and at last kiss her. She whispered: “We’re eating in tonight—roast beef, which won’t be a surprise; as you must be able to smell it. But everything else will be. I promise you, though, it will be just right for what ought to go with it.”
I knew nothing to say to that except hold her closer. She moved so I could sit beside her, and then I saw the gingham apron she had on over her dress. I laughed, and she asked: “Well, what’s so funny? I love you, that’s all.”
“It makes you look cute.”
“It makes me want to snuggle.”
“Okay, then snuggle.”
So she snuggled and time went by. At last she drew a deep breath and said it was time to talk. “I’m so proud of you,” she said.
“What have I done for you to be proud of?”
“The impression you made on him. He called to tell me.”
“What impression?”
“You said no to him, for one thing. He’s so used to yes
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