Lucy, in her more cognizant moments, guessed that he was perhaps a ticket-taker, but she never ventured to question him further. David was not the kind of person one ever got to know extremely well; she supposed she knew him as well as anyone, and still there were a lot of stones uncovered. Like, for instance, what he did for a living. He did not seem to have a lot of money, but he always had just enough. Yet when she asked him about his source of income, he always answered in some vague generality about being an «agent,» then sometimes a few words about «finders' fees and such.»

Lucy had heard of such things; John Barrett always took her into his confidence. He often said that he wanted no daughter who was capable of being just a housewife: therefore, he explained the innermost workings of his businesses in detail to her as a teenager, usually when she would have preferred television or a drive in the country. But she never let on to David that she had any familiarity at all with the world of business and finance; as far as he knew, she understood just what little they taught her at business school. And that was hardly enough to make a decent secretary. In all honesty, she had to admit, if only to herself, that she had some doubts about David's standing in the financial community, but that never bothered Lucy Barrett. She had all the money she needed, and a lot more corning when she turned twenty- five, so what did it matter if David probably had some part-time job he was ashamed to tell her about. Maybe in a service station since he liked cars so much, she sometimes guessed. But only when it crossed her mind at all, which was seldom.

«Want another beer?» he asked, opening the refrigerator.

«No, thanks, those two at Scottie's were enough for me. I have to go home eventually, and one drunk in the house is quite enough.»