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But David laughed. “Surely, Elizabeth,” he told her, “you’re not making a case for forty-five years of virginity.” He smiled at both girls, full knowing, it seemed, that if there were sides to be on, they were on his. With his handsome face before them, forty-five years of virginity seemed worse than cruel. “I’d call that corrupting the morals of a minor,” he said and his eyes flashed. They sparkled.
There was the sound of Grace’s whiskey glass colliding with the bridge of her glasses.
Professor Wallace smiled her wry smile at her husband and then seemed to sip the air the way a bird sips water, her throat all exposed. “Surely I’m not,” she said. And then she turned her head, regally. “But A
She felt all their eyes on her. Felt suddenly like a bird herself, a baby bird, helpless, wordless, her mouth opened. The truth was that she had read very little of Edith Wharton. Had thought, until a few minutes ago, that Edith Wharton was a spinster, homely and professional (she recalled a ma
“Oh, Ethan Frome” she said, shrugging a little. “The Age of I
Mr. Wallace said, “No doubt you’re a James fan as well.”
And his wife said, “Being a James fan is de rigueur for Americans in England, I should think.”
“Portrait of a Lady,” Grace chirped, not to be outdone. She held her stubby glass and her little plate to her clasped knees, hunching over them. “I read it again this summer,” she said. “Before I came.”
“He was a big poof, you know,” David said and his wife cried, “Really, darling,” and Grace ducked and giggled, and drank more whiskey, touching her fingertips to the edge of her glasses as she did. Gently, Professor Wallace leaned over and took the small plate from her lap and placed it on the cushion between them. And then, as if she were caring for a child, with her shoulder pressed languidly to the back of the couch, she lifted a cracker and spread it with pate.
“Well, if we’re going to bring up Edith Wharton’s moldy virginity,” he cried, charmingly, “then we might as well get it all out. Henry was a poof and William a religious fanatic and Alice was a sexual deviant, flummoxed by shyness, who figured the only way she could get professional men to come see her in her nightgown was by taking to her bed.” He turned his attention to Grace, who was beet red behind the Waterford crystal, hunched and laughing into her ice cubes. “Varieties of Religious Experience, indeed,” he said. “Have you read it?”
Professor Wallace gave her one of the spread crackers. “Never mind,” she said gently, although A
“A prototype for the modern American family,” David said, smiling. The light from the lamp at his elbow only burnished his glow. “Hedonism plus Puritanism yields both deviant sex and deviant religion. What could be more American?” His eyes met his wife’s. A
Graciously, he diverted his attention across the room. “And what of Long Island?” he asked A
She smiled. She did not want to appear flummoxed by shyness. “There’s a lot of us,” she said. She was aware of the fact that it was as close as she had come since she’d arrived to speaking a full sentence.
“And your parents are there?” he asked, more gentle still, luring her into a conversation. “Brothers? Sisters?” Implying that he recognized her shyness but knew it was his duty as her host to relieve her of it, as if it were only a heavy coat. “Big family? Small?”
“Small,” she said. She would not make herself more interesting to him, more American, by mentioning Jacob. “A brother and a sister,” she said. “An aunt who lives with us,” she would not say “a moldering virgin,” to prove herself clever. She took another sip of her wine. She saw that Professor Wallace was smiling at her, as if-it was all unaccountable-admiring her restraint. Then the buzzer rang downstairs and Professor Wallace stood, her skirt sweeping. “I’ll get that,” she said. They were in a play again. “If you’ll refresh the girls’ drinks.”
Behind her when she returned were three more American students, two boys and a girl. Entering, they looked at Grace and A
Beside them, David Wallace seemed not only the member of some more advanced, more refined civilization but a creature who must also be ranked a good deal higher on the phylogenetic scale.
“Sit, sit,” David was saying once again. He had poured Chianti for Monica and opened bottles of beer for both boys. Grace caught A
“Yes, well,” David Wallace said as his wife distributed pate and crackers, olives and celery to the new guests. A
The Americans looked at each other, frowning, shaking their heads. Grace offered, eagerly, that she didn’t know.
“You don’t consult?” Mr. Wallace said, smiling. “All you American students? It’s rather remarkable to have five of you here all at once. I thought perhaps it was part of a plan.”