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slowly. “Poor, unhappy woman.”
    I stared at her as if she had just turned on the lights in a dark room and I could see again. That was it. She had hit the nail right. Elaine Schuyler meant nothing to me at all. I felt the way I did because I was sorry for her.
    I began to feel better, more like myself again. That had to be the reason. By the time I went to bed I was convinced it was.
    But I was wrong, and I knew it the moment she walked into my office on Monday.

Chapter Five

    BY the time I got down to the office on Monday I was back to normal. I had everything figured out. I would have lunch with her, be polite and helpful and that would be all there was to it.
    I smiled as I sat down to my morning mail. What a fool I had almost made of myself. I should have known better. I was past that. Forty-three was too old.
    There is a stage in a man’s life where a woman is important, and sex and romance are synonymous.
    But that comes while you’re young, not at forty-three. At forty-three you’ve got other things to think about. It’s part of growing up and I’ve seen it in almost every man I know. By forty-three, sex and romance require too much effort, take too much out of you emotionally and physically. You need the drive for other things. Business, for example.
    I remember hearing someone say that business was the American substitute for sex. As a man grew older and his drive weakened, he looked about for other fields in which he could demonstrate his abilities. Business was the logical out. That’s why so many men made mistresses of their work. That was why so many wives were unhappy too, but that was the normal hazard of marriage. It made sense to me. And man has just so much strength, and I was smart enough to know my limitations. Besides, she was Matt Brady’s niece and there was no point in looking for trouble.
    By the time one o’clock rolled around I had almost forgotten about my luncheon date. It had been a hectic morning and I had created a very demanding mistress. The intercom buzzed and I pressed the key down impatiently.
    “Mrs. Schuyler is here.” The words lingered in my ears.
    I sucked in my breath sharply. A quick excitement began to pound through me. “Ask her to come in,” I said, getting to my feet.
    I was the smart one, all right; I had everything figured out. A moment before I hadn’t thought about her, she hadn’t been important to me. But now she was.
    I knew it as I waited for the door to open. I couldn’t wait. I wanted to hurry to it and open it for her.
    I began to move around the desk but she had already come into the office.
    I had thought it wouldn’t happen again. It couldn’t happen again. It had been that way the first time I saw her but it wouldn’t be this time. This time I knew what she was like. I had my guard up. I was wrong about that too.
    She smiled at me and I could hardly speak. “Hello, Brad.” Her voice was low and warm.
    For a moment I hesitated; then I walked across the room and took her hand. “Elaine.” Her soft, cool fingers were like fire in my palm. “Elaine,” I repeated. “I’m so glad you could come.”
    She started to laugh, to make some merry, inconsequential remark, but she looked up into my face and the words stopped in her throat. A shadow came into her eyes and she looked away from me.
    “I’m sorry, Brad,” she almost whispered, withdrawing her hand. “I can’t make lunch with you.” “Why not?” I blurted out.
    She still didn’t look up at me. “I had forgotten a previous appointment. I just dropped by to apologize.”
    I stared at her. The clear, fragile profile etched deeply into my mind. I felt a chill sweeping all the excitement out of me. I was suddenly angry. “You’re joking!” I accused flatly.
    She didn’t answer.
    I took a step towards her. “If you had another appointment you would have called me,” I said
    roughly. “You didn’t have to come up here for that. There are too many telephones in this