Chapter Three
"Well," said Boyd Benjamin, leaning in the doorway with her hands in the pockets of her coat, her cigarette wagging to her words, "I must say this place looks exactly like you."
"It is nice," Christabel agreed.
"Everything done?"
"Everything but the curtains. Gobby Witherspoon said he'd come in and help me hang them."
"Gobby's having a wonderful time thinking he's in love with you!"
Poor old Boyd, Christabel thought. Imagine having to get one's emotional satisfaction from another woman's love affairs! And she saw herself as she must seem to strong clumsy Boyd—fragile and flower-like, surrounded by adorers; the fairy-tale princess whose glamour poor old Boyd must share, if only in imagination. She answered, warmly gentle:
