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Harry was smiling as he came in. His eyes went past Ken's face to me and he stopped smiling.
end will give me a good chance to see them all when they're relaxed and feel at home. You can tell a lot about a man if you can see him when he's at ease."
"It's a good idea," I said idly — never dreaming what that weekend party was to lead to. . . .
IT WAS at the weekend party that
I met Ken Willis.
I'd seen him several times before, when I'd dropped by the office to pick up Harry. He was dark, with a keen face and the most direct gaze I've ever seen. He was about thirty but I knew Harry regarded him as very able for his years and thought more of him than of some of the older executives. But it was on that Friday night I really knew him for the first time.
It was after dinner and some of the guests were dancing, out on the terrace. Harry and I were sitting in big wicker chairs, watching. I felt lazy and languid but vaguely restless, too. Then I saw Ken Willis
OCTOBER, 1942
coming toward us. The light from the house fell on his face and threw it in bold relief, with its high cheekbones and deepset, direct eyes. I thought suddenly of a Spanish buccaneer.
He stopped beside my chair. "May I have this dance, Miss Masters?"
I hesitated and looked at Harry. He smiled and nodded. "Go ahead, Carol. I'd enjoy watching you."
With a reluctance I couldn't understand I let Ken lead me out on the flagstoned terrace. "I ought to warn you," he said, "this isn't going to be any jitter-bug exhibition. Anybody who dances with me has to be a sedate, proper little lady. I've got a game leg."
"I'm always a sedate, proper little lady," I laughed. "And I haven't danced in ages, which is worse than having a game leg."
"Except that it doesn't keep you out of the Army. Mine does," he said soberly and briefly. "Automobile accident."
"Oh! I'm sorry!"
He put his arm around me and — how shall I describe what happened? It was like an electric shock. It was as if, at his touch, I had come alive. Suddenly and frighteningly, Ken Willis was Youth. And youth, in all these last weeks of restless doubt and conflicting emotion, was what I'd wanted and needed. Harry had filled my life and Harry was no longer young. And I knew that whatever this was I was feeling, Ken knew it and felt it, too.
We danced slowly and silently for a long moment, my heart thudding in my breast. His arm tightened around me, holding me close. His eyes searched my face as if he had never seen it before. I was afraid to look up, afraid to breathe, this thing and the knowledge that we shared it was so sudden and so strong.
"Did anyone ever tell you," he said frankly, "that you are breathtakingly — lovely ? ' '
"Often." I tried to laugh. "But never as charmingly as you."
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