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156 He followed, “Um, is it okay if we talk in private for a few minutes somewhere?” Cathy was quick to reply. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another. She did most urgently desire to save her face in Morningside Park, and for long hours she could think of no way of putting it that would not be in the nature of unconditional admission of defeat. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. Essentially the talk was a mixture of fragments of sentences heard, of passages read, or arguments indicated rather than stated, and all of it was served in a sauce of strange enthusiasm, thin yet intense. Gerald exchanged a puzzled glance with his friend. He hated horizons.
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