She was well over six feet, taller than most men there. They straighteheirspines, sucked in their stomachs; there was a general test to match her swayi.
Holly said, "What are you doing here?" and her lips were taut as drawn string.
"Why, n-n-nothing, sugar. Ive been upstairs w with Yunioshi. Christmasstuff for the Ba-ba-zaar. But you sound vexed, sugar?" She scattered a roundaboutsmile. "You b-b-boys not vexed at me for butting in on your p-p-party?"
Rusty Trawler tittered. He squeezed her arm, as though to admire her muscle,and asked her if she could use a drink.
"I surely could," she said. "Make mine bourbon."
Holly told her, "There isnt any." Whereupon the Air Force el suggested herun out for a bottle.
"Oh, I declare, dos have a f-f-fuss. Im happy with ammonia. Holly, honey,"
she said, slightly shoving her, "dont you bother about me. I introduce myself."
She stooped toward O.J. Berman, who, like many short men in the presence of tallwomen, had an aspiring mist in his eye. "Im Mag ood, from Wild-ood,Arkansas. Thats hill try."
It seemed a dance, Berman perf some fancy footwork to prevent his rivalscutting in. He lost her to a quadrille of partners who gobbled up her stammeredjokes like pop tossed to pigeons. It was a prehensible success. She was atriumph liness, so often more beguiling than real beauty, if only because ittains paradox. In this case, as opposed to the scrupulous method of plain goodtaste and stifiing, the trick had been worked by exaggeratis;shed made them oral by admitting them boldly. Heels that emphasized herheight, so steep her arembled; a flat tight bodice that indicated she could goto a bea bathing trunks; hair that ulled straight back, atuating thespareness, the starvation of her fashion-model face. Eveutter, certainlyge still a bit laid on, had been turo adva was the masterstroke, that stutter; for it trived to make her banalities sound somehinal,and sedly, despite her tallness, her assura served to inspire in malelisteners a protective feeling. To illustrate: Berman had to be pounded on the backbecause she said, "Who tell me here is the j-j-john?"; then, pletingthe cycle, he offered an arm to guide her himself.
"That," said Holly, "wont be necessary. Shes been here before. She knows whereit is." She was emptying ashtrays, and after Mag Wildwood had left the room, sheemptied ahen said, sighed rather: "Its really very sad." She paused longenough to calculate the number of inquiring expressions; it was suffit. "And somysterious. Youd think it would show more. But heaven knows, she looks healthy.
So, well, . Thats the extraordinary part. Wouldnt you," she asked with, but of no one in particular, "wouldnt you say she looked ?"
Someone coughed, several swallowed. A Naval officer, who had been holding MagWildwoods drink, put it down.
"But then," said Holly, "I hear so many of these Southern girls have the sametrouble." She shuddered delicately, ao the kit for more ice.
Mag Wildwood couldnt uand it, the abrupt absence of warmth ourn; the versations she began behaved like green logs, they fumed but wouldnot fire. More unfivably, people were leaving without takielephonehe Air Force el decamped while her back was turned, and this wasthe straw too much: hed asked her to dinner. Suddenly she was blind. And since ginto artifice bears the same relation as tears to mascara, her attras at oncedissembled. She took it out on everyone. She ca