"Well, I-it's very nice of you," answered Ray. "I don't know what Barbara had-"

"I'd love to," said Barbara. "Where are you going? I mean, I've never been to Havana before."

"Everywhere!" said Mrs. Woodruff roundly. "Well, isn't this just perfect?" She leaned forward and called again to the stewardess. "Dear, wouldn't you like to join us? Please do."

"I'm sorry. I hafta meet somebody. Thanks just the same, though."

"What a pity. Fielding, darling, you look like a college boy, so young. It's indecent."

"Me? An old punk like me?"

"Where are you from dear?" Mrs. Woodruff asked Barbara.

"Coopersburg, Pennsylvania. It's near Pittsburgh."

"Oh, how nice. And you?"

"Salt Lake City," said Ray.

"We're from San Francisco. Isn't it wonderful? Do you think we'll be in the war soon, Mr. Walters? My husband doesn't think so."

"Kinsella," corrected Ray. "I don't know. I go in the Army anyway when the cruise is over."

Mrs. Woodruff put a hand to her mouth. . "Oh!" she said. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"Oh, It won't be too bad," Ray explained." I have a commission in the artillery from R.O.T.C. I'll have my own battery and all. I mean I won't have to take anybody's guff."

As the tender bumped gently into port, Ray put his arm around Barbara's waist to steady her.

"She has no waist at all," said Mrs. Woodruff and looked gently at Ray. "How perfect it must be for you to be out on a night like this with somebody who has absolutely no waist at all."

Ray, who had recommended it, led the way into Viva Havana. It was chiefly a tourist spot, but with money and highhandedness behind it. There was nothing inside except the waiters. The owner was Irish, the menu was French, the headwaiter was Swiss, the orchestra was mostly Brooklyn, the chorus girls were former citizens of Shubert's alley, and Scotch sold better than any other drink.

The jai alai games over, the crowd from the ship had already arrived at Viva Havana and were distributed sunburntly around the vast, noisy room. Ray immediately noticed the young lady whom he and the other Junior Committeemen had intimately voted Miss Latex Bathing Suit of 1941. She was swaying, half in and half out of her partner's arms, near the orchestra stand, talking to the leader, probably asking him to play Stardust. Ray also spotted the governor-elect - the ship's celebrity - on his way to the game room, wearing a white dinner jacket, not his usual man-of-the-people skimpy black suit. The Masterson Twins, Ray also noticed, were at a table with - in the parlance of the ship's employees - the Chicago Catch and the Cleveland Outfumbler, was just unquestionably tight.

Mr. Woodruff attended to the ordering when they were all seated. Then he and Mrs. Woodruff pried their way to the dance floor.

"Would you like to dance?" Ray asked Barbara.

"Not right away. I don't know how to rumba. I need something very slow, anyway. Look at Mrs. Woodruff. She's very good."

"She's not bad," conceded Ray.

Barbara said excitedly, "Isn't she nice? Isn't she beautiful? She's so - so I don't know what. Golly!"

"She certainly talks a lot," Ray said, stirring his highball.

"You must meet a lot of people, going on these cruises all the time," Barbara said.

"This is only the second time. I just quit college. Yale. I was going in the army anyway, so I figured I might as well have a little fun." He lit a cigarette. "What do you do?" he asked.

"I used to work. I don't do anything now. I didn't go to college."

I haven't seen your mother anywheres around tonight," said the Yale man.

"The lady traveling with me?" said Barbara. "She isn't my mother."

"She isn't?"

"No. My mother's dead. She's my mother-in-law-to-be."

"Oh."

Barbara reached forward for the centerpiece matchbox. She struck a match, blew it out, struck another, blew it out and drew back her hands to her lap. "I was sick for a while," she said, "and my fiance wanted me to go away for a rest. Mrs. Odenhearn said she'd take me on a cruise or something. So we went."

"Well!" said Ray, who was watching Miss Latex Bathing Suit of 1941 perform on the dance floor.

"It's like being with a girl my own age, almost," Barbara said. "She's very nice. She was a great athlete when she was young."

"She seems very nice. Drink your drink, why don't you?"

Barbara picked up her drink and sipped a sixteenth of an inch of it. "I can dance to what they're playing now," she said "Fine."

They stood up and worked their way to the dance floor.

Barbara danced rigidly and without any perceptible feeling for rhythm. In her nervousness she got Ray's arm into a peculiar position, locked it just enough to give him trouble leading her.

"I'm an awful dancer."

"You certainly are not," said Ray.

"My brother tried to teach me when I was little."

"Oh?"

"He's about your size. He used to play football in high school. Only he hurt his knee and had to stop. He could've had a scholarship to almost any college if he hadn't hurt himself."

The floor was so crowded that it mattered relatively little how poorly they danced together. Ray suddenly noticed how blond, how corn yellow, Barbara's hair was. "What's your fiance like?" he asked.

"Carl? Oh, he's very nice . He sounds lovely over the telephone. He's very - very considerate about stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Oh...stuff. I don't know. I don't understand boys. I never know what their talking about."

Ray suddenly lowered his head and kissed Barbara on the forehead. It tasted sweet and left him feeling unsteady.

"Why did you do that?" Barbara said, not looking up at him.

"I don't know. Are you sore?"

"It's so warm in here," Barbara said. "Golly."

"How old are you, Barbara?"

"Eighteen. How old are you?"

"Well, actually I'm twenty-two."

They went on dancing.

"My father had a cerebral hemorrhage and died last summer," Barbara said.

"Oh! That's tough."

"I live with my aunt. She's a teacher at Coopersburg High. Did you ever read Green Light by Lloyd C. Douglas?"

"I don't get much time for books. Why? Is it good?"

"I didn't read it. My aunt wants me to read it. I'm stepping all over your feet."

"No, you're not."

"My aunt's very nice," Barbara said.

You know," said Ray, "it's very hard to follow your conversation sometimes."

She didn't answer, and for a moment he was afraid he had offended her. He felt a slight panic rise in his head at the thought: he still tasted her forehead on his lips. But, below his chin, Barbara's voice spoke up again.

"My brother had a car accident just before I left."

It was a great relief to hear.

The Woodruffs were already seated at the table. Their shot glasses of bourbon were empty and their chasers barely sipped. "I waved to you," Mrs. Woodruff lightly accused Barbara. "You didn't even wave back."

"Why, I certainly did wave back to you," Barbara said.

"Did you watch us rumba?" asked Mrs. Woodruff. "Weren't we marvelous? Fielding's a Latin at heart. We're both Latins. I'm going to the powder room ...Barbara?"

"Not just now. I'm watching a drunken man," Barbara said.

As Mrs. Woodruff left the table, almost simultaneously her husband leaned forward and addressed the two young people.

"I'm trying to keep something from her. Our son's going to join the Army while we're gone, I think. He wants to be a flier. It would kill Mrs. Woodruff if she knew." Mr. Woodruff then sat back, sighed heavily and catching the waiter's eye, he signaled for another round of drinks. Then he stood up, used his handkerchief forcibly and wandered away from the table. Barbara watched him until he disappeared: then she turned and spoke to Ray: "Do you like clams and oysters and stuff?"

Ray started slightly. "Well, yes. Sort of."

"I don't like any kinds of shell food," Barbara said nervously. "Do you know what I heard today? I heard the ship may not make any more cruises till after the war."

"It's just a rumor," said Ray casually. "Don't look so sad about it. You and what's-his-name - Carl - can take this same cruise after the war," Ray said, watching her.

"He's going in the Navy."

"After the war, I said."

"I know," said Barbara, nodding, "but - everything's so funny. I feel so funny." She stopped short, unable or unwilling to express herself.

Ray moved a little closer to her. "You have nice hands, Barbara," he said.

She removed them from the table. "They're terrible now. I couldn't get the right polish."

"They're not terrible.' Ray picked up one of her hands - and immediately let go of it. He stood up and drew Mrs. Woodruff's chair for her.

Mrs. Woodruff smiled, lit a cigarette and looked alertly at them both. "I want you both to leave very shortly," she said smiling. "This place isn't at all right for you."

"Why?" asked Barbara, with wide eyes.

"Really. This is the sort of place to go when the very best things are over and there's mostly money left. We don't even belong here - Fielding and I. Please. Take a lovely walk somewhere." Mrs. Woodruff appealed to Ray. "Mr. Walters," she said, "aren't there any not-to-well-organized clambakes or hayrides tonight?"

"Kinsella," corrected Ray, rather curtly. "Afraid not."

"I've never been to a clambake or a hayride," Barbara said.

"Oh! Oh, what bad news! They're so nice. Oh, how I hate 1941."

Mr. Woodruff sat down. "What's that, dear?" he asked.

I said I hate 1941," said his wife peculiarly. And without moving she broke into tears, smiling at all of them. "I do," she said. "I detest it. It's full of armies waiting to fill up with boys, and girls and mothers waiting to live in mailboxes and smirking old headwaiters who don't have to go anywhere. I detest it. It's a rotten year."

"We're not even in the war yet, dear," said Mr. Woodruff. Then he said: "Boys have always had to go to war. I went. Your brothers went."

"It's not the same. It's not rotten in the same way. Time isn't any good anymore. You and Paul and Freddy left relatively nice things behind you. Dear God. Bobby won't even go on a date if he hasn't any money. It's entirely different. It's entirely rotten."

"Well," said Ray awkwardly. He looked at his wrist watch: then at Barbara. "Like to take in a few sights?" he asked her.

"I don't know," said Barbara, still staring at Mrs. Woodruff. Mr. Woodruff leaned forward toward his wife. "Like to play a little roulette, honey?"

"Yes. Yes, of course, darling." Mrs. Woodruff looked up. "Oh, are you leaving, children?" she asked.

It was a little after four in the morning. At one o'clock the portside deck steward had set up some of his deck chairs to accommodate the nondissipating crowd who would, a few hours later, use the post-breakfast sunshine There are many things you can do in a deck chair: eat hot hors d'oeuvres when a man passes with them on a tray, read a magazine or a book, show snapshots of your grandchildren, knit, worry about money, worry about a man, worry about a woman, get seasick, watch the girls on their way to the swimming pool, watch for flying fish...But two people in the deck chairs, drawn however closely together, can't kiss each other vary comfortably. Either the arms of a deck chair are too high or the persons involved are seated too deeply.

Ray was seated on Barbara's left. His right arm, resting on the hard wood of her chair, was sore from pressure.

Both of their voices had struck four.

"How're you feeling now?" Ray asked.