The Other Side of Midnight

"How do you think he'd like me?"

Catherine studied her tall, willowy brunette roommate. "For breakfast."

As the weeks went by Catherine became acquainted with the other secretaries working in nearby offices. Several of the girls were having affairs with their bosses, and it did not seem to matter to them whether the men were married or single. They envied Catherine's working for William Fraser.

"What's Golden Boy really like?" one of them asked Catherine one day at lunch. "Has he made a pass at you yet?"

"Oh, he doesn't bother with that," Catherine said earnestly. "I just come in at nine o'clock every morning, we roll around on the couch until one o'clock, then we break for lunch."

"Seriously, how do you find him?"

"Resistible," Catherine lied. Her feelings toward William Fraser had mellowed considerably since their first quarrel. He had told her the truth when he said he was a perfectionist. Whenever she made a mistake, she was reprimanded for it, but she had found him to be fair and understanding. She had watched him take time out from his own problems to help other people, people who could do nothing for him, and he always arranged it so that he never took credit for it. Yes, she liked William Fraser very much indeed, but that was no one's business but her own.

Once when they had had a great deal of work to catch up on, Fraser had asked Catherine to have dinner with him at his home so that they could work late. Talmadge, Fraser's chauffeur, was waiting with the limousine in front of the building. Several secretaries coming out of the building watched with knowing eyes as Fraser ushered Catherine into the back seat of the car and slid in next to her. The limousine glided smoothly into the late afternoon traffic.

"I'm going to ruin your reputation," Catherine said.

Fraser laughed. "I'll give you some advice. If you ever want to have an affair with a public figure, do it out in the open."

"What about catching cold?"

He grinned. "I meant, take your paramour--if they still use that word--out to public places, well-known restaurants, theaters."

"Shakespearean plays?" Catherine asked innocently.

Fraser ignored it. "People are always looking for devious motives. They'll say to themselves, 'Uh-huh, he's taking so-and-so out in public. I wonder who he's seeing secretly.' People never believe the obvious."

"It's an interesting theory."

"Arthur Conan Doyle wrote a story based on deceiving people with the obvious," Fraser said. "I don't recall the name of it."

"It was Edgar Allen Poe. 'The Purloined Letter.'" The moment Catherine said it, she wished she hadn't. Men did not like smart girls. But then what did it matter? She was not his girl, she was his secretary.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

Fraser's home in Georgetown was something out of a picture book. It was a four-story Georgian house that must have been over two hundred years old. The door was opened by a butler in a white jacket. Fraser said, "Frank, this is Miss Alexander."

"Hello, Frank. We've talked on the phone," Catherine said.

"Yes, ma'am. It's nice to meet you, Miss Alexander."

Catherine looked at the reception hall. It had a beautiful old staircase leading to the second floor, its oak wood burnished to a sheen. The floor was marble, and overhead was a dazzling chandelier.

Fraser studied her face. "Like it?" he asked.

"Like it? Oh, yes!"

He smiled, and Catherine wondered if she had sounded too enthusiastic, like a girl who was attracted by wealth, like one of those aggressive females who were always chasing him. "It's...it's pleasant," she added lamely.

Fraser was looking at her mockingly, and Catherine had the terrible feeling that he could read her thoughts. "Come into the study."

Catherine followed him into a large book-lined room done in dark paneling. It had an aura of another age, the graciousness of an easier, friendlier way of life.

Fraser was studying her. "Well?" he asked gravely.

Catherine was not going to be caught again. "It's smaller than the Library of Congress," she said, defensively.

He laughed aloud. "You're right."