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Wednesday there was a four-hour wrangle in a conference room crowded with planets and nebulae of cigarette smoke. Three men and a woman paced the carpet in turn, suggesting or condemning, speaking sharply or persuasively, confidently or despairingly. At the end Joel lingered to talk to Miles.

The man was tired–not with the exaltation of fatigue but life-tired, with his lids sagging and his beard prominent over the blue shadows near his mouth.

"I hear you’re flying to the Notre Dame game. "

Miles looked beyond him and shook his head.

"I’ve given up the idea. "

"Why?"

"On account of you. " Still he did not look at Joel.

"What the hell, Miles?"

"That’s why I’ve given it up. " He broke into a perfunctory laugh at himself. "I can’t tell what Stella might do just out of spite–she’s invited you to take her to the Perrys’, hasn’t she? I wouldn’t enjoy the game. "

The fine instinct that moved swiftly and confidently on the set, muddled so weakly and helplessly through his personal life.

"Look, Miles," Joel said frowning. "I’ve never made any passes whatsoever at Stella. If you’re really seriously cancelling your trip on account of me, I won’t go to the Perrys’ with her. I won’t see her. You can trust me absolutely. "

Miles looked at him, carefully now.

"Maybe. " He shrugged his shoulders. "Anyhow there’d just be somebody else. I wouldn’t have any fun. "

"You don’t seem to have much confidence in Stella. She told me she’d always been true to you. "

"Maybe she has. " In the last few minutes several more muscl
es had sagged around Miles’ mouth, "But how can I ask anything of her after what’s happened? How can I expect her–" He broke off and his face grew harder as he said, "I’ll tell you one thing, right or wrong and no matter what I’ve done, if I ever had anything on her I’d divorce her. I can’t have my pride hurt–that would be the last straw. "

His tone annoyed Joel, but he said:

"Hasn’t she calmed down about the Eva Goebel thing?"

"No. " Miles snuffled pessimistically. "I can’t get over it either. "

"I thought it was finished. "

"I’m trying not to see Eva again, but you know it isn’t easy just to drop something like that–it isn’t some girl I kissed last night in a taxi! The psychoanalyst says–"

"I know," Joel interrupted. "Stella told me. " This was depressing. "Well, as far as I’m concerned if you go to the game I won’t see Stella. And I’m sure Stella has nothing on her conscience about anybody. "

"Maybe not," Miles repeated listlessly. "Anyhow I’ll stay and take her to the party. Say," he said suddenly, "I wish you’d come too. I’ve got to have somebody sympathetic to talk to. That’s the trouble–I’ve influenced Stella in everything. Especially I’ve influenced her so that she likes all the men I like–it’s very difficult. "

"It must be," Joel agreed.

Joel could not get to the dinner. Self-conscious in his silk hat against the unemployment, he waited for the others in front of the Hollywood Theatre and watched the evening parade: obscure replicas of bright, particular picture stars, spavined men in polo coats, a stomping dervish with the beard and staff of an apostle, a pair of chic Filipinos in collegiate clothes, reminder that this corner of the Republic opened to the seven seas, a long fantastic carnival of young shouts which proved to be a fraternity initiation. The line split to pass two smart limousines that stopped at the curb.

There she was, in a dress like ice-water, made in a thousand pale-blue pieces, with icicles trickling at the throat. He started forward.