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she's going to have a baby, she should get married. How terrible, to bring a child into this world with the stigma of illegitimacy. It just wears away at the quality of life. And by the way, sweetie"—she turned to John—"Lesley Crouse doesn't hurt women because his dick is so big. He hurts women because he likes to."
    "Oh," said John. "Well. That's something of a relief, I suppose. I must have met at least six of Lesley's old girlfriends who said he hurt them. I always thought it meant his dick was too big." He laughed uproariously and looked at his watch. "I've got to go. I'm meeting Ted Sterns at Mauptauguet."
    "Claudia, stop picking your nose," Natalie said. "It's disgusting. Do you have pinworm again?"
    "No."
    "I bet you got it at that fancy camp. I'm going to call the director. Don't they tell you to wash your hands? Why do you think I'm always telling you that? You know I can't be with you every second of your existence! . . . What time will you be back from golfing, John?"
    "Around seven, I expect. What time are people coming this evening?"
    "Eight, I suppose."
    John rose to leave, though it was evident—at least psychologically—that he had vanished some time ago. "Bye, girls! See you all later!"
    After a pause Florence started to clear the table. "I'm getting a glass of water. Does anybody want anything?"
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    "Did you lose some weight?" Natalie said.
    "I don't think so," Florence said.
    Natalie gave her a piercing stare, like a raptor seizing a rabbit. "I bet you lost five pounds. What are you now, a hundred and eight?" Within thirty seconds Natalie had evaluated her and correctly judged her weight. "Five six? Or Five seven?"
    "Five eight," Florence muttered.
    Natalie snorted. "I don't think so. I'm five seven; you're shorter than me." That wasn't true, Florence thought indignantly, though she refrained from saying anything. Natalie was taller than she only because she wore high heels all the time. The only reason Natalie had anything to do with her was because their mothers had been friends—and probably Natalie liked having an acquaintance who was so obviously inferior to her in terms of wealth, position, financial status and so forth. "You look good, but I think you were better five pounds heavier. Your face is a little gaunt. Although when you were heavier, you had kind of a little tummy. Claudia, you should try and get Florence's figure when you grow up. With your luck you'll end up with my little tits and your father's big hips. Oh, I have some news for you! Charlie Twigall is coming to dinner this evening!"
    "I think you mentioned it," Florence said.
    "Well, I knew he had asked you out for tonight, and he said 'Yes' right away, so he sounds like he might be interested. If I were you, Florence, I'd grab him right away. I know you don't think he's attractive—"
    "No, I think he's attractive, in a kind of different way—"
    "But there's not that much else out there on the market and you're not exactly virginal material. Basically, he's your last chance! If I were in your position, I'd play my cards right and go for him. He's very, very conservative; you should put your hair up and try not to wear much makeup. I think he's bringing his mother! Anyway, I'm off—I've got stuff to do all day in Bridge-hampton. I don't know what time I'll be back."
    "Can I go to the beach, Mommy?" Claudia said. The kid was plain, there was no getting around that. Probably that was part of
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    the reason why Natalie had never warmed to her own child. Florence couldn't imagine acting so cold if she had a child. At least John and Natalie were rich enough to get Claudia plastic surgery—the works—later on. Then she would lock just like her mother.
    "I don't want you going to the beach, Claudia!" Natalie said. "Can't you stick around for one day! Stay by the pool. Ask Florence to keep an eye on you while you're out there. Besides, you can't go anywhere. Your tutor's coming at three. Florence, you'll watch Claudia, won't you?