she?â
âYeah, as youâve said quite a few times.â
âAndâI want her happy. Isnât that enough?â
âWait a minute. Did Sally ask you to come here?â
âNo! No, Mr. Lockwoodâshe hasnât said one word about you to me! And you mustnât divulge to her that I came here tonight. Youâll protect me, wonât you?â
âThen, I will. Now, whatâs the rest?â
âTheârest?â
â What the hell did you come about? â
He snapped it impatiently, then plowed on fast, to say what a queer thing it was for a mother to pay such a call, âout of the blueâwith no more to go on than a name from Information, a gumshoe job by her store andâthatâs all. Talk about not matching up, this is just plain queerâunless thereâs more to it. So there is more to it. So why donât you say, Mrs. Simone?â
âMr. Lockwood, thereâs nothing more to it!â
âThen O.K., letâs have the soft crabs.â
âI tell you, Iâm Sallyâs mother.â
âAnd I tell you, Sally and I are through. Maybe youâre her mother, but youâre good-looking, I like you andâso letâs get at the crabs.â
âNo! No!â
âWhy no in that tone of voice?â
âWell, Mr. Lockwood, perhaps I should have said more. I havenât quite made myself clear. I not only came to egg it on, but to egg it on now , Mr. Lockwood. Sallyâs beenâmarking time, as she calls it, but why should she, after all? It only puts things off. If she breaks up her marriage now, itâs something that had to come. And if it helps, that youâve appeared on the scene then, then that could be a way out. The thing would be done andâat last would be over. Now, does that help, Mr. Lockwood?â
He didnât answer at once, but sat looking at her, and then at last said quite slowly: âSo what youâre afraid of, what youâre terrified of, wouldnât happen, would it? â
âIâdonât know what you mean.â
âYes, you do.â
âI donât! I swear I donât! Iââ
âWonât admit it, and I donât expect you to. Youâve made things clear just the same, and I get it at last, why you came. And all I can say is, I like you better and better.â
âAndâI like you, Mr. Lockwood.â
âWhatâs your name, Mrs. Simone? Your first name.â
âGrace.â
âMineâs Clay.â
âYes, I know, andââ
âGrace, when Sally left last night, we didnât say good-by, and she may not know that thatâs what it was. Just the same, I wonât see her again. But to let you get things straight, I didnât bring her here just for a few eveningsâ fun. The very first night, and last night too once again, I put it on the lineâasked her to do what you want: make the break now, leave that guy, go to Reno and have it done. I even begged her to stay here with me. Her answer was I was nuttyâthat to do what I wanted sheâd have to give up that dough, what she thinks sheâll get of the fortune that Mr. El will leave, what sheâll get and what her boy will get. But that wasnât all, Grace. It showed through, like the blue on a corpseâs fingernails, what sheâs hoping for. What she means to do, perhaps. If she gets helpâof the kind she thinks I can give. I wonât! Get that straight, Grace. I wonât be her patsy.â
âI havenât the faintest notionââ
âWhat Iâm talking about. Thatâs O.K.â
âBut if you took her nowâ? â
âI told you: I tried it. Weâre past that.â
âBut, Clay, you canât give up that easy!â
âWhy canât I?â
âYouâre in love with her, thatâs why.â
âWhat makes you think I am?â
âClay, a woman