The Innocent Read Free

me up, help me out!”
    He made Eve take him under her wing. She tucked her hand through one of Charles’ arms and Marjorie tucked hers through the other.
    Beckwith frowned when he saw the three of them that way; he was most uncharacteristically silent for the remainder of the visit.
    Beckwith was still too reserved during the drive back to their hotel. Eve believed she knew why. “What’s keeping you so quiet, Beck? Struck dumb by Adonis?”
    â€œBy Carter? No. Hell, no!”
    â€œYou are jealous. You should be. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Of course,” she said thoughtfully, “I never can take my eyes off things of beauty.” She tapped her cheek with her index finger. “How shall I put it, Becky? To me a thing of beauty is a joy forever.”
    â€œI’m not jealous of Carter. He gripes me. He rubs me the wrong way.”
    â€œHe rubs every man the wrong way. They can’t take having women see what nature really can do when she wants to turn out something special in a male animal. No wonder Charles has such trouble with men when even a clever little chimpanzee like you becomes jealous of his effect on women.” She reached out and squeezed Beckwith’s thigh affectionately.
    â€œThat isn’t why Carter has trouble with men.”
    â€œOf course it is. He’s a woman’s man, not a man’s man.”
    â€œHe’s nobody’s man. He isn’t a man.”
    â€œYou needn’t be jealous, Beck. I liked looking at him but I wouldn’t be married to him. Married life wouldn’t be worth a hill of beans. I’d have to spend my time worrying about every female in sight with sight. No, I wouldn’t have Charles Carter on a bet.”
    Beck shifted gears clumsily, making a sound like a Bronx cheer. He was scowling.
    â€œYou mean I’m talking sour grapes? You mean he wouldn’t have me anyway?”
    â€œHe wouldn’t have you on a bet. He wouldn’t go for your type for a cent.”
    â€œReally!” She turned to stare at Beckwith. He was sniffing peculiarly, then he swallowed several times. “You’re very rude. What’s the matter with you, Beck?”
    â€œNothing serious,” he said, sounding very sorry for himself, “only I’m pretty sure I’m getting a cold.”
    â€œBut you haven’t sneezed once.”
    â€œMy throat is sore. I feel hot and cold and there’s a kind of tickling premonition in the back of my nose.”
    â€œThat sounds like it.” Eve groaned. “Oh, poor Becky! Here we are. Let them park the car and you go upstairs to bed.”
    Eve was at the dressing table, rubbing in cold cream. She called to Beckwith, who was in the bathroom. “What are you running that tap for so long?”
    â€œI’m trying to get this water hot enough to fix me a toddy.”
    â€œBeck, I’ve been wondering why you’re so sure Charles wouldn’t have me on a bet. After all, I’m not bad.”
    Beck appeared with a glass of steaming water. He poured some rye into it.
    â€œWhat has Margie got that I don’t have more of?”
    â€œThat has nothing to do with it. It wasn’t her looks that got Carter.”
    â€œIt wasn’t? What do you think Margie did to get him, used a love philter?”
    â€œA baby bottle would be more like it.”
    â€œYou mean she mothers him? Margie’s always been ready to mother everybody in sight, and as one of the people who took full advantage of this weakness in her, I know whereof I speak. Doesn’t that taste awful, Becky? That water should be boiled, not just hot.”
    â€œAwful.”
    â€œBut I think it’s darling the way little Margie mothers that great big hunk of man. And I can see why. Let me tell you, dearie, when he sort of throws himself on your mercy and you look at him and see what’s doing it! Oh, Beck—a woman goes all gooey