"Here?" Alice asked.
"No, of course not. Home. Let's go, dear. Have to rush."
Alice's smile had nothing sentimental about it.
* * * * *
He didn't berate her until morning. He wanted time to cool off, to look
at the whole thing objectively. It just wouldn't get objective, though.
At breakfast, he said, "That was tactless last night. Very, very
tactless."
"Yes, Joe. Tact requires deception. Tact is essentially deception."
When had he said that? Oh, yes, at the Hydra Club lecture. And it was
true and he hated deception and he'd created a wife without one.
He said, "I'll have to devise a character distiller that won't require
putting you back in the mold."
"Of course, dear. Why?"
"You need just a touch of deception, just a wee shade of it."
"Of course, Joe."
So she had tact.
He went to the office with very little of the absurdity mood stirring
in him. He'd had a full breakfast, naturally.
At the office, there was a note on his desk: _Mr. Behrens wants to see
you immediately._ It bore his secretary's initials. Mr. Behrens was the
Chief.
He was a fairly short man with immense shoulders and what he'd been
told was a classical head. So he let his hair grow, and had a habit
of thrusting his chin forward when he listened. He listened to Joe's
account of the interview with Burke.
When Joe had finished, the Chief's smile was tolerant. "Ribbing him,
were you? Old Burke hasn't much sense of humor, Joe."
Joe said patiently, "I wasn't ribbing him. I took her out of the mold
last night. I ate breakfast with her this morning. She's--beautiful,
Chief. She's ideal."
The Chief looked at him for seconds, his head tilted.
Joe said, "Heat, that's what does it. If you'd like to come for dinner
with us tonight, Chief, and see for yourself--"