At breakfast a few days before the ceremony, Elizabeth looked at me with the first sign of awkwardness I had detected in her. Timidly she said: “Victor . . . I’ve invited Paul to the wedding.” It was alien to her nature to have any secrets, and I was surprised that she should have kept this one; surprised, too, that she should have acted thus without consulting me and that she should in any case have known Paul’s new address. But of course he would have sent word to her somehow. I could imagine the florid missive. It would have been evasive but manly, in Paul’s best treacherous style, telling her that if ever she needed help he would be at her service, that he wished us both well but that if she had any doubts she must be sure to consult him and lean on him. When I said nothing, Elizabeth went on: “He was a very good friend of yours.” The past tense was all too appropriate.
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