I MOVED back into the Garden of Allah. Constance’s mother had come west; the clan was gathering. Her sister was poisoning Constance against me by telling her the truth: that I was hesitating. Doris was the established girlfriend now of Billy Wilder, and I was waiting to see if she would prevail on him to marry her. Talk is cheap.

“I’m going to Reno,” I said to Constance. “Stop bothering me about it.”

“When?”

“As soon as I’m finished with the picture.”

“Did you sign what you said you were going to?”

“No, but they’re drawing up the papers, and I will.”

“When?” Then she was silent. “Oh, God, I hate this. The way you’ve got me. And the way I have to talk to you. I hate it.”

Later she said, “I wish we were alone in the world. That there was no one else on earth, anywhere. Anywhere.”

We were in our “tent,” of course, when she said that.

I didn’t say anything about the “no one else” line. That would truly drive me nuts.