“So am I.” More heavy breathing. “When are you coming back?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Good. What airline?” His voice sounded strangled.

“It’s the B. E. A. seven-something-or-other. Wait a sec. Seven-one-five.”

“I’ll meet you at the airport.”

“That’s awfully sweet of you but why bother?”

“Because I’m in a hurry.”

“In a hurry? Why, where are you—”

“My God,” he exploded, “do you understand nothing of lechery? See that you’re on that plane.” And abruptly he hung up.

Well, I thought. Well, well.