But this would satisfy no one. Perhaps not even themselves. And people don't like things to be pure: it casts a rebuke on their own secrets.
"Joyce, let's make our announcement at this party."
"What announcement?" She looked startled.
"Why, that our minds are engaged."
Her hand, in his, tightened a little, reproachfully.
"George, before you go down. Who is this Mr. Martin?"
"I don't really know; some friend of Phyl's. I never saw him before. She says he's going to do a portrait of her. I think he's kidding her."
He turned toward the stairs and then called her back.
"Listen," he said softly. "When I say something, after dinner, about putting the car away, that's your cue. Slip away and come with me. I want to show you something."
