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Jerry was indeed a handsome man, and not only that, he had whiff of rakish class about him. The devil-may-care smile, the mop of unruly but not untidy hair, the loafers and the tailor-made blazer with the funky silk lining. He was working his way through a whisky at the bar while wryly batting away …
Chevalier de Seingult[1] had a saying that an affair consisted of four acts. The first act was like the entrée or solicitation, the second act was like a further hors d’oeuvre in anticipation of the primo and the secondo. Of course, these culinary metaphors were not always appropriate. In the case of Signorina Teresa Imer, …
He saw her through the crowd. How unusually attractive, he thought, alone but confident, not quite part of the scene, but detached, perhaps amused by it all. They spoke briefly. She smiled at him and they wandered outside. “What do you do?” “I am a writer.” “That is absurd but romantic nonetheless. I don’t know …
Jerry believed this about himself: he would always be in debt to the powers-that-be but in credit with the opposite sex. He was indeed a good-looking fellow, and not only that, he had whiff of rakish class about him. The devil-may-care smile, the mop of unruly but not untidy hair, the loafers and the tailor-made …