"If he ever took one. Yes, it could be useful, my darling because if war broke out in earnest and we were at sea, we would not go on to Hilo. We would make a sharp left turn and go south and get lost. The Marquesas. Or farther south, the farther the better. That way our kid might live through it. Easter lsland if you think you can hit it."

"Jacob, by then I'll split it right down the middle. Or any island you pick. Sweetheart, I wasn't playing games when I asked for the whole old-fashioned works—all the charts, all the pilots, three key-wind chronometers and a hack, this lovely sextant and a twin like it in case I drop this one . .and please note that I always put the lanyard around my neck. All the H.O.s and the Almanac. I'm no use as a deckhand now—so I decided to beconie a real navigator. Just in case, just in case."

"Minm. My darling, I hope we never have to run for it, but have you noticed that I keep this vessel fully stocked at all times even though we anchor almost every night and can shop for supplies any time we wish?"

"I've noticed, sir."

"Nor is it an accident that I gave Doctor Bob an unlimited budget and saw to it that he equipped for any conceivable obstetrical problem."

"I did not notice that, quite."

"You weren't meant to, nor was Winnie—no need to give you gals something to worry about. But since you have been doing the same sort of planning ahead, I decided to tell you. Bob used the time the ‘Pussy Cat' was being refitted in taking a refresher in O.B. And he spent twenty times more money on our sick bay than one would expect for a seagoing yacht."

"I'm pleased to hear it, sir. With such foresight, money can do almost anything. Except turn back the clock."

"It even did that in your case, beloved."

"No, Jacob. It gave me added years... and a wonderful body... and you. But it did not turn back the clock. I'm still almost a century old. I can never feel young the way I once did—because I'm not. Not the way Winnie is young. Or Gigi. Jacob, I have learned that I don't want be young."

"Eh? Are you unhappy, dear?"

"Not at all! I have the best of two worlds. A youthful, vital body that makes every breath a sensuous joy...a century of rich experience, with the wisdom—if that is the right word—that age brings. The calmness. The long perspective. Winnie and Gigi still suffer the storms of youth, which I don't have and don't want. I've forgotten the last time I had a tranquilizer but I think it was the day they unstrapped me. Jacob, I'm a better wife for you than either of those two lovely girls could be; I'm older than you are, I've been where you are now and understand it. I'm not boasting, dear; it's simply true. Nor would I be happy married to a young man—I'd have to spend my time trying desperately not to upset his delicate, youthful, unstable balance. We're good for each other, Jacob."

"I know that you are good for me, my darling."

"I know I am. But sometimes you have trouble remembering that I am not truly ‘Eunice,' but ‘Johann.'" (Hey! What is this, Boss? We're both.) (Yes, beloved, always—but Jake needs to be reminded of Johann— because all he ever sees is Eunice.) "For example, Jacob, a while ago you thought I was twitting you about Gigi."

"‘Thought,' hell—you were."

"No, dear. Close your eyes and forget that I have Eunice's voice. Think back at least ten years when I was still in passable health. If your older friend Johann had twigged that you had kicked the feet out from under some young and pretty woman, would he have twitted you?"

"Huh? Hell, yes. Johann would have slipped me the needle and broken it off."

"Would I have, Jacob? Did I ever?"

"You never caught me."

"So? I might have congratulated you, Jacob, just as I did today—had I felt that I could do so without offending you. But I would not have twitted ‘you. Do you recall a young woman whose first name was—or is—Marian? Last name had the initial ‘H'—your pet name for her, ‘Maid Marian.'"

"How in the hell?"

"Steady, darling—you let your helm fall off. That was sixteen years ago, just before I asked you to spend all your time on my affairs. So I ordered a fresh snoopsheet on you before I put the deal up to you. May I say that the fact that you had dealt so carefully with her reputation was a strong factor in my deciding that I could trust you with anything, too?—including my power of attorney, which you have held ever since and never abused. May I add, too, that I wanted to congratulate you on both your good taste and your success as a Lothario?—for of course I then had to have her snooped, too, and her husband as welt, before I could entrust my grisly secrets to you. But—also of course—I could not say a word."

"1 didn't think any part of that ever showed."

"Please, Jacob. Do you recall that you once told Eunice that you could hire a man to photograph her in her own bath—and she would never know it? As we've noted, money can do almost anything that is physically possible. Part of that snoop report was a photograph of you and Marian in what you lawyers call a ‘compromising position.'

"Good God! What did you do with it?"

"Burned it. Hated to; it was a good picture and Marian looked awfully pretty—and you looked all right yourself, you lovable old goat. Then I sent for the head of the snoop firm and told him I wanted the negative and all prints now and no nonsense—and if it ever turned out that even one print had escaped me, I would break him. Get his license, bankrupt him, put him in jail. Were you or Marian ever embarrassed by such a picture? Blackmail, or anything?"

"No. Not me—and I'm morally certain she wasn't, either."

"I guess he believed me. Jacob, do you still think I was twitting you about Gigi? Or was I congratulating you?"

"Uh... maybe neither. Maybe trying to wring a confession out of me. It's no go, wench."

"Please, Jacob. Stipulating that I was mistaken but sincere—which was it? Now that you know how I behaved about Marian."

"Eunice—Johann! You should have been a lawyer. Subject to that stipulation, I concede that it must have been a sincere congratulation. But one I can't accept, I haven't earned it. Now, damn it, tell me how you came by this delusion."

"Yes, dear. But not this minute; there comes Gigi herself." Joan put her sextant back into its box. "Sights will have to wait anyhow; this reach has taken us in so close I've lost my horizon for the Sun. Hi, Gigi, you pretty, pretty thing! Give us a kiss. Just me, Jake is on watch;"

"I'm not all that busy. Eunice, hold the wheel." He accepted a kiss while still seated, then took the helm back from his wife.

Joan said, "Been swimming, dear?"

"Uh, yes. Joan Eunice, could I see you a minute? Mr. Salomon, would you excuse us?"

"Not by that moniker I won't; you'll have to call me ‘Jake.'

"Stuff it, dear," his wife said cheerfully. "She wants a hen conference. Come along, dear. Captain, try to keep us afloat."

They found a spot in the lee of the lifeboat. "Got troubles, dear?" (Eunice, are we about to have a beef over Jake? Surely not!) (Can't be, twin. That affair started over two weeks ago... and both Gigi and Joe were relaxed about it from scratch. Which means just what we thought: It actually is a return engagement—and Jake lied to protect a lady's reputation. Predictable.)

"Well, sort of," admitted Mrs. Branca. "Uh, might as well say it bang. Next time you anchor and send a boat in

Joe and I want off."

"Oh, dear! What's wrong, Gigi? I did so hope you would stay at least the month we talked about—then as much longer as you wished."

"Well... we did expect to. But I got this seasickness problem and Joe—well, he has done some painting but... the light's not right; it's too bright and..." She trailed off. (Twin, those are excuses.) (Jake?) (Can't be, I tell you. You've got to make her come clean.)