“Heat,” she suggested.

“I was going to say romance.”

“Even better, Bern. I’m a sucker for romance. So you’re meeting her at the Musette and you’re going to see two old movies back to back. I don’t suppose they’ll be colorized, will they?”

“Bite your tongue.”

“And then what? Dinner?”

“I suppose so.”

“Unless you both pig out on popcorn. So you’ll be getting out of the theater around ten-thirty or eleven and you’ll grab something in the neighborhood. Then what? Her place or yours?”

“Carolyn-”

“If the Musette’s just a couple of blocks from Lincoln Center,” she said, “then it’s not much more than a couple of blocks from your place, because your place is just a couple of blocks from Lincoln Center. But maybe her place is just as convenient. Where does she live, Bern?”

“I didn’t ask her.”

“So you’re saying she lives in New York, right? She comes from Europe and she lives in New York, and you haven’t managed to narrow down either of the parameters any more than that.”

“Carolyn, we only just met.”

“You’re right, Bern. I’m being silly. I’m probably just jealous, because God knows I could use a mystery woman in my life. Anyway, if she’s a mystery woman, it’s more interesting if there are things you don’t know about her.”

“I guess so.”

“And you know the important things. She’s beautiful and she likes Humphrey Bogart.”

“Right.”

“And she comes from Europe, and she lives here now. What’s her name, Bern?”

“Uh,” I said.

There was a pause. “Hey, what’s a name, anyway, Bern? You know what they say about a rose. Hey, maybe that’s it.”

“Huh?”

“Rose. Lots of European women are named Rose, and they’d smell as sweet even if they weren’t. Bernie, have a great time, you hear? And I want a full report at lunch tomorrow. Or call me tonight, if it’s not too late. Okay?”