Quicksand
shocked to death. Isn‘t he lovely? The dear baby. I was going to introduce him to Audrey and tell her to do a good job of vamping on him as soon as I could remember the darling‘s name, or when it got noisy enough so he wouldn‘t hear what I called him. But you‘ll do just as well. Don‘t tell me you know him!” Helga made a little nod. “Well! And I suppose you met him at some shockingly wicked place in Europe. That‘s always the way with those innocent-looking men.”
“Not quite. I met him ages ago in Naxos. We were engaged to be married. Nice, isn‘t he? His name‘s Vayle. James Vayle.”
“Nice,” said Helen throwing out her hands in a characteristic dramatic gesture—she had beautiful hands and arms—“is exactly the word. Mind if I run off? I‘ve got somebody here who‘s going to sing. Not spirituals. And I haven‘t the faintest notion where he‘s got to. The cellar, I‘ll bet.”
James Vayle hadn‘t, Helga decided,
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