:23:01
But Tuesday and Friday nights
we stayed home...
:23:05
dining quietly,
listening to my records.
:23:09
I read my articles to her.
:23:12
The way she listened
was more eloquent than speech.
:23:18
These were the best nights.
:23:21
Then one Tuesday, she phoned
and said she couldn't come.
:23:26
It didn't matter, really.
:23:28
But when it happened again
the following Friday, I was disturbed.
:23:34
I couldn't
understand it. I felt betrayed...
:23:39
and yet I knew Laura
would never betray anyone.
:23:49
I walked for a long time.
:23:53
Then I found myself
before her apartment building.
:23:56
The lights were on.
It pleased me to know she was home...
:24:01
till I saw she was not alone.
:24:05
But I waited.
I wanted to see who he was.
:24:15
It was Jacoby, who had recently
painted her portrait.
:24:19
I never liked the man.
:24:21
He was so obviously conscious oflooking
more like an athlete than an artist.
:24:26
I sat up the rest of the night
writing a column about him.
:24:29
I demolished his affectations...
:24:31
exposed his camouflaged
imitations ofbetter painters...
:24:34
ridiculed his theories.
:24:37
I did it for her,
knowing Jacoby was unworthy ofher.
:24:41
It was a masterpiece
because it was a labor oflove.
:24:45
Naturally, she could never
regard him seriously again.
:24:49
There were others,
of course...
:24:52
but her own discrimination
ruled them out...
:24:54
before it became necessary
for me to intercede...
:24:59
until one night at a party
at Ann Treadwell's.