She looked as if she had stepped out of a Beaton photograph: immaculately dressed by Balmain, she was extremely conscious that before long she would be the First Lady of the United States. She was a shrewd, cold and calculating woman with a burning ambition for her husband and herself. She had a cold, magnetic charm. She seemed to have an irresistible interest in people who felt, when they met her, that their cares were her cares: it was a trick that served her husband well. As Sherman came into the big, comfortable lounge, Mary was at her desk, writing a letter. She turned, looked inquiringly at him with those blue, impersonal eyes and then got to her feet. 'Henry! I've been waiting.' She moved to him and kissed his unshaven cheek with a little grimace of disapproval. 'Was it all right? What happened?' During the drive back to Washington from Kennedy airport, Sherman had got rid of his false moustache, but he had retained the heavy sun goggles.
