Myra-Breckinridge-Gore-Vidal

very much amused, particularly when I quoted Parker Tylerto her. We both agreed that his explication of thatparadigmatic wartime film is altogether wonderful. Just asthe red-smog sun was vanishing into the olivedrab sea, Iturned casually into the private road of the Malibu BeachColony, a number of opulent beach houses jammedtogether between road and sea; many are occupied bystars of the first and current (if that is not a contradiction!)magnitude. "But this is where Miss Van Allen lives!" Untilthen, Mary-Ann had been indifferent to her surroundings,doubtless conducting some inner dialogue with Rusty evenas I spoke of James Craig and the great days. "Really?Where?" In fact, I did not know which was Letitia's house.Mary-Ann indicated a gray clapboard Provincetown-stylehouse. "Then why don't we drop in and say hello?" "Oh, no!I couldn't. Not after last time. Not after the way Rusty talkedto her. I'd be too uncomfortable." "Nonsense." I parked infront of the darkened house. The light from the sea was nowvery faint. "I'm sure she's forgiven him. She's used to artistictemperament. After all, that's her business." "But he was soawful, and I looked so silly." "Don't be a goose!" I took herhand and led her to the door and rang the bell. "Besides,this will be good for your career." To this argument, the onlyresponse was acquiescence. From inside the house I couldhear a Benny Goodman record (Letitia belongs in fact tothe generation to which I belong in spirit). No one, however,answered the doorbell. "She's out." Mary-Ann was relieved."Let's go." "But I hear music. Come on." I opened the frontdoor and led the reluctant Mary-Ann into a large darkened