"All right. There's a first time for everything. Don't you agree?"
"Yes," she murmured. "A first time for eating snails--and a first time
for other things."
"But you've experienced some of the other things already, haven't you?"
Color came to her cheeks. "Yes," she said.
"Good. I just wanted to start clearing up any misconceptions you may
have. McCarten gave me a rather ambiguous report about you." Spinelli
toyed with his silverware. "You are twenty-three?"
"Twenty-one. Did he tell you--?"
"He told me you were twenty-one. I'm a very suspicious man, my dear,
and I like to try to catch people in little slips. I believe in perfect
honesty, both on my part and on the part of my associates."
The waiter returned, bearing a little tray of snails. Laura stared at
them in some anxiety, but Spinelli quickly dispelled it. Carefully he
showed her how to grip the shell in the little clamp and extract the
snail with the tiny fork, and how to mop up the delicious garlic-butter
sauce with a bit of bread. The snails were magnificent. Laura had been
apprehensive about eating them, but she found nothing repugnant at all
about them.
Spinelli seemed to be in no hurry. He kept up a smooth flow of
conversation, generally aimed at trying to draw Laura out. She
abandoned all attempts at pretense of sophistication--but, at the same
time, she endeavored to let him know that she was not utterly innocent.
She kept from him any hint that she had been a streetwalker for the
past several days. As Marilyn had pointed out, that would hardly
enhance her market value to him.
At length, when only a few scraps of pheasant remained on their plates,
Spinelli said, "I think the time has come to take off the masks we've
been wearing. Laura, do you know what sort of employment I can offer
you?"
"I think so."
"Don't try to make guesses." Spinelli steepled his fingers. "I don't
know what stories you may have heard about me, but probably they're all
fairly accurate, if somewhat coarsened. One of my chief enterprises is
a kind of entertainment service. I provide feminine companionship for a
wealthy and carefully chosen clientele, largely business executives. Do
you understand me?"
"Perfectly," she said in a steady voice.
Spinelli looked a little surprised. "McCarten remarked that you seemed
a trifle naive to him. Perhaps his standards of evaluation need some
revising."
Gently Laura said, "I had only been in New York four days when I met
him. I've had an extra week, now, and a week more in New York makes
quite a difference."
"Evidently," Spinelli said. He stared evenly at Laura. "I have
reason to want you to join my staff," he said. "The activities you
will engage in are far from unpleasant, and highly lucrative. The
girls on my staff earn between $20,000 and $50,000 a year, all of it
tax free. The amount they earn is limited only by their eagerness
and--ah--abilities. I think there's an opportunity for you. You're
free to leave my employ at any time, so long as you give me adequate
notice--say, two or three weeks. Most of my girls stay with me five or
six years. The nature of the work brings you in contact with a good
deal of promising matrimonial material. You'd be amazed to learn how
many wives of executives are my alumnae. At no time will I stand in
the way of a good match--though naturally I'll expect that you keep my
interests in mind when you take up your life as the wife of a wealthy
man." Spinelli smiled urbanely. "Don't give me any decision yet,
please. There are certain technicalities to settle before we can arrive
at any agreement. If you're absolutely positive you're not interested,
let me know at the end of the meal, and we can go our separate ways.
Otherwise, I'd like you to come up to my apartment for some further
discussions."