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whimpering in its sleep.
    â€œHarry,” he said sharply.
    â€œUmph,” Harry said, as if he’d been prodded in the stom­ach by an elbow. “Aaaah. What? What?”
    â€œWake up.”
    â€œMust have dozed off. Sorry.”
    â€œDon’t apologize all the time. It gets on my nerves.”
    â€œNearly everything does,” Harry said with a patient sigh. “I don’t intend that as a criticism, old boy. Far from it. You’re too high-strung, that’s all. You ought to learn to relax. Say, you remember those orange pills I told you about, the ones that cured the Pope of hiccoughs?”
    â€œThey’re quite difficult to forget.”
    â€œI happen to have a few in my pocket. You could take one now and let me drive for a while.”
    Turee had as little faith in Harry’s driving as he had in Harry’s ministrations. “Thank you, no. I prefer to remain tense.”
    Harry climbed back into the front seat and then, out of a habit that was becoming almost a compulsion, he began to talk of Thelma again, of her rare and various virtues. Harry didn’t claim that all other women were clods, he merely let it be implied.
    â€œ. . . so Thelma took the old man in the house and made him a cup of tea. Thel’s like that, opens her heart to every­one . . .”
    â€œHarry.”
    â€œ. . . even a total stranger. Then she got in touch with the old man’s daughter-in-law . . .”
    â€œHarry, I have something to tell you.”
    â€œAll right, old boy, I’d practically finished anyway. Go ahead.”
    â€œDon’t expect Ron to be at the lodge when we get there.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI don’t think he’s going to show up at all, either at the lodge or any other place he’s likely to run into you.”
    â€œWhat have I got to do with it?”
    â€œI believe Ron may be trying to avoid you.”
    â€œAvoid me? Why?”
    â€œBecause he’s become quite fond of your wife.”
    â€œWhy, he’s always been fond of Thelma. They hit it off fine, right from the start.”
    â€œNow they’re hitting it off finer.” Turee took his eyes from the road for an instant to glance at Harry’s face in the dim light from the dashboard. Harry was smiling. “Did you hear me, Harry? Ron’s in love with your wife.”
    â€œThat’s Thelma’s story, of course?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDon’t let it worry you, there’s nothing to it,” Harry said firmly.
    â€œYou seem pretty confident.”
    â€œListen, Ralph, I wouldn’t tell this to anyone else in the world, but you’re my friend, I can trust you with a secret.”
    Turee opened the car window. He had a sensation that he and Harry were stationary and the night was moving past them swiftly, turbulent with secrets. To the right the bay was visible in the reflection of a half moon. The waves nudged each other and winked slyly and whispered new secrets.
    â€œThe fact is,” Harry said, “Thelma daydreams. Nothing serious, of course, but once in a while she gets the notion that so-and-so is in love with her. There’s never anything to it. A week later she’s forgotten the whole thing.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œThis time it’s Ron. Once, it was you.”
    â€œMe. Why, for God’s sake, I never even . . .”
    â€œI know. Thelma imagines things. She can’t help it. She’s got a romantic streak in her nature. It gives her satisfaction to believe that someone is hopelessly in love with her, makes her feel glamorous, I guess.” Harry sighed. “So she thinks Ron is in love with her, that’s what she was upset about? That’s what she told you?”
    â€œShe told me that among . . .”
    â€œPoor Thelma. This daydreaming—well, it’s like the séances she goes to. Thelma doesn’t really believe in them and she hasn’t anybody dead