“We’ll be quite happy here,” said Clarissa, waving our host away. “Go and abuse your other guests.” Hastings trotted off; those who had been talking to Clarissa talked to themselves and beneath a flickering lantern the lights of Los Angeles, revealed in a wedge between two hills, added the proper note of lunacy, for at the angle from which I viewed those lights they seemed to form a monster Christmas tree, poised crazily in the darkness. Clarissa and I exchanged notes on the months that had intervened since our luncheon. “And you gave up Julian, too?” “Yes ... but why 'too’?” I was irritated by the implication that I gave up all things before they were properly done. “I feel you don’t finish things, Eugene. Not that you should; but I _do_ worry about you.” “It’s good of you,” I said, discovering that at a certain angle the Christmas tree could be made to resemble a rocket’s flare arrested in space. “Now don’t take that tone with me. I have your interest at heart.” She expressed herself with every sign of sincerity in that curious flat language which she spoke so fluently yet which struck upon the ear untruly, as though it were, in its homeliness, the highest artifice. “But I’ve taken care of everything, you know. Wait and see. If you hadn’t come out here on your own I should have sent for you....” “And I would have come?” “Naturally.” She smiled. “But for what?” “For ... _she’s_ here. In Los Angeles.” “You mean that girl who came to lunch?” I disguised my interest, but Clarissa, ignoring me, went on talking as energetically and as obliquely as ever. “She’s asked for you several times, which is a good sign. I told her I suspected you’d be along but that one never could tell, especially if you were still tied up with Julian, unlikely as that prospect was.” “But I do finish some things.” “I’m sure you do. In any case, the girl has been here over a month and you must see her as soon as possible.” “I’d like to.” “Of course you would. I still have my plot, you know. Oh, you may think I forget things but I don’t: my mind is a perfect filing system.” “Could you tell me just _what_ you are talking about?” She chuckled and wagged a finger at me. “Soon you’ll know. I know I meddle a good deal, more than I should, but after all this time it would be simply impossible for me _not_ to interfere. I see it coming, one of those really exciting moments and I want just to give it a tickle here, a push there to set it rolling. Oh, what fun it will be!”