Part 2 (1/2)

”Darling, you know I'll go to your room with you if you'd be more comfortable there.”

He strode to the window angrily and, for Rhoda, there was that indescribably sweet and exciting reaction she always got from his nakedness. _Like a Greek G.o.d standing there, she thought_, and it thrilled her even though she knew she was being a little subjective about it.

She smiled with tender, understanding amus.e.m.e.nt as she realized Frank's pattern never varied. His outbursts never came until the first fierce need of her had been a.s.suaged; this was to her liking because her need was as great.

Reacting according to current, ”broad-minded” thinking and Manhattan sophistication, she regarded herself and Frank as having a ”good physical relations.h.i.+p.” Which individual need was the greatest, she had never been able to say. But there certainly was something extraordinary about it. In a.n.a.lyzing it, she'd arrived at the conclusion that they'd been able, on the basis of personal rapport, to function in a completely uninhibited manner; thus, some of their love-making, when lifted out of context and surveyed objectively, might have been called abnormal. Rhoda did not think so, however; or, if she did, she blocked the idea successfully by telling herself that whatever she and Frank did together was all right because _they_ did it. She told herself it was good for them because they looked at it with a healthy att.i.tude.

She could, of course, have gotten this opinion, or one in complete opposition to it, from two different psychologists, but she preferred to play it as she saw it.

She had wondered at times just how important the s.e.x relation was in her attachment to Frank. It was of major importance, of that she was sure, but was it the key? If they drifted apart physically, would the other aspects of the relations.h.i.+p vanish? She thought not, but she certainly would not have been willing to put it to the test.

Frank Corson was through looking out the window now and he began pacing nervously. ”Sure--so it's fine to be a doctor. It's the sure-fire answer for later in life. But what about now? What about this crawling up the ladder inch by inch?” He turned on her defiantly.

”Living on your money!”

”You aren't!”

”All right. Maybe not technically.” He looked around the room resentfully. ”Using your apartment for--”

”Frank! When I have guests, do they hesitate because my apartment is nicer than--?”

She knew she'd hurt him even before his head came around and his eyes narrowed. ”So that's what it really is to you!”

She'd said the wrong thing, but even as she sprang up from the bed she felt that it made no difference because he would have found something else. ”I didn't mean it that way. You know I didn't.”

She ran to him and laid her hands on his chest; his eyes traveled down her naked body and his mind struggled. His expression said it was a little unfair of her to come so close and stand that way, nude and beautiful and eager, in front of him, especially when he had a point to make.

”I'm a pauper trying to keep up with the rich.”

She knew how to break his mood now. She smiled and pressed against him lightly and said, ”Uh-huh, but what a pauper. And darling, money wouldn't change that part of it a bit.”

He drew her to him violently. The impact of their bodies hurt her ribs but she gloried in the pain. She let her knees weaken and sank to the thickly carpeted floor, bringing him down with her.

She knew Frank's outburst was over--at least for that day.

Later, on the bed, he opened his eyes sleepily. ”What time is it?”

”A little after ten.”

”That gives us almost two more hours.” He looked out over the East River. ”It's beautiful.”

”_Isn't_ it?”

”If I went right into research--took a job somewhere--I could afford to give this to you.”

She thought of saying, _But, darling, I've got it already_, and decided a change of subject would be more judicious and said, ”You _were_ kidding last night, weren't you?”

”Kidding?”