cancel for some years: her death came as no surprise.
Tania had to take her place. She worked in the restaurant, hating it. With half-American, half-Vietnamese blood, she found the need to balance her life correctly bewildering.
When she came in to change the dishes and to bring more dishes, Harry again gave her a quick appraisal, careful it was quick because he was aware of Lisa’s hostility towards the girl.
This fairy-like beauty caught at his throat. She had all the advantages of Vietnamese beauty, but retained the American feminine figure. Her breasts made a blood stirring mound under her rose pink tunic, her legs were long and her hips narrow, but solid.
Lisa found fault with everything although she ate well. Harry was glad when the meal finally ended.
‘That girl. . .’ Lisa said as they waited for the check. ‘She’s a half-caste. What do you think of her?’
‘Is she? I didn’t notice.’ Harry looked out of the window. ‘Anyway, I’m not interested in Orientals.’
Lisa leaned forward, her eyes glittering.
‘What are you interested in, Harry?’
He forced a smile.
‘I’ll tell you,’ he lied. ‘I’m interested in you. I remember when we first met. . . when it was never better. I go along with that memory, darling. . . the best ever.’
Lisa’s hard, sad face crumpled a little. She put her hand on his.
‘That’s the nicest, loveliest thing you have ever said to me, Harry.’
For the next three days, Harry dreamed of Tania. Then the following morning when he was in his office, Miss Bernstein came in to tell him the client who had a luncheon date with him had had to cancel.
Harry saw his chance.
‘Too bad . . . well, phone the Yacht Club I’m not coming.’
Miss Bernstein looked suspiciously at him.
‘Where will you be lunching, Mr. Lewis?’
‘I don’t know. . . I’ll get a sandwich somewhere.’
Harry went to the Saigon Restaurant. As soon as Dong Tho saw him, he bowed to the ground and conducted him to the private room.
A minute later, Tania came in with the menu. They looked at each other. Harry knew he couldn’t afford to waste time.
He smiled his charming smile and said, ‘You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.’
There was that Oriental, blank expression on her face that was to bother Harry for months ahead.
‘Thank you,’ she said and handed him the menu.
Her closeness, the fairy-like slimness of her, her ivory, perfect skin set Harry on fire.
‘What is your name?’ he asked.
‘Tania.’
‘I am Harry Lewis.’
‘Yes.’
Tania knew all about Harry Lewis, and especially all about Mrs. Harry Lewis who was said to be the richest woman in Paradise City.
Harry hesitated. He knew he might not have the opportunity to visit the restaurant again for weeks. He had to rush his fences. There was something about the way the girl was looking at him that encouraged him.
‘Have you anything to do next Sunday morning?’ he asked. This was kill or cure. He knew the approach was crude, but he had no alternative.
There was no change of expression. She continued to regard him with that Oriental, deadpan face.
‘I have to be here at midday.’
‘But before then . . . you aren’t tied up?’
‘No.’
Harry drew in a deep breath. He said gently, ‘Could we meet somewhere? I would like to talk to you . . . to get to know you better.’
She lowered her eyes. She looked so lovely Harry had to restrain himself from shoving away the table and taking her in his arms.
‘I must ask my father,’ she said quietly, not looking at him.
Harry thought: God! Now, what have I started?
‘Do you have to?’ he asked, alarmed.
She looked at him and smiled reassuringly.
‘My father has great admiration for Americans. He is very understanding. What would you like to eat?’
‘Oh . . .’ Harry relaxed. ‘To eat? Oh, anything . . . I’m not hungry.’
She nodded and went away.
Harry lit a cigarette and stared out of the window. Was he walking into
Tania had to take her place. She worked in the restaurant, hating it. With half-American, half-Vietnamese blood, she found the need to balance her life correctly bewildering.
When she came in to change the dishes and to bring more dishes, Harry again gave her a quick appraisal, careful it was quick because he was aware of Lisa’s hostility towards the girl.
This fairy-like beauty caught at his throat. She had all the advantages of Vietnamese beauty, but retained the American feminine figure. Her breasts made a blood stirring mound under her rose pink tunic, her legs were long and her hips narrow, but solid.
Lisa found fault with everything although she ate well. Harry was glad when the meal finally ended.
‘That girl. . .’ Lisa said as they waited for the check. ‘She’s a half-caste. What do you think of her?’
‘Is she? I didn’t notice.’ Harry looked out of the window. ‘Anyway, I’m not interested in Orientals.’
Lisa leaned forward, her eyes glittering.
‘What are you interested in, Harry?’
He forced a smile.
‘I’ll tell you,’ he lied. ‘I’m interested in you. I remember when we first met. . . when it was never better. I go along with that memory, darling. . . the best ever.’
Lisa’s hard, sad face crumpled a little. She put her hand on his.
‘That’s the nicest, loveliest thing you have ever said to me, Harry.’
For the next three days, Harry dreamed of Tania. Then the following morning when he was in his office, Miss Bernstein came in to tell him the client who had a luncheon date with him had had to cancel.
Harry saw his chance.
‘Too bad . . . well, phone the Yacht Club I’m not coming.’
Miss Bernstein looked suspiciously at him.
‘Where will you be lunching, Mr. Lewis?’
‘I don’t know. . . I’ll get a sandwich somewhere.’
Harry went to the Saigon Restaurant. As soon as Dong Tho saw him, he bowed to the ground and conducted him to the private room.
A minute later, Tania came in with the menu. They looked at each other. Harry knew he couldn’t afford to waste time.
He smiled his charming smile and said, ‘You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.’
There was that Oriental, blank expression on her face that was to bother Harry for months ahead.
‘Thank you,’ she said and handed him the menu.
Her closeness, the fairy-like slimness of her, her ivory, perfect skin set Harry on fire.
‘What is your name?’ he asked.
‘Tania.’
‘I am Harry Lewis.’
‘Yes.’
Tania knew all about Harry Lewis, and especially all about Mrs. Harry Lewis who was said to be the richest woman in Paradise City.
Harry hesitated. He knew he might not have the opportunity to visit the restaurant again for weeks. He had to rush his fences. There was something about the way the girl was looking at him that encouraged him.
‘Have you anything to do next Sunday morning?’ he asked. This was kill or cure. He knew the approach was crude, but he had no alternative.
There was no change of expression. She continued to regard him with that Oriental, deadpan face.
‘I have to be here at midday.’
‘But before then . . . you aren’t tied up?’
‘No.’
Harry drew in a deep breath. He said gently, ‘Could we meet somewhere? I would like to talk to you . . . to get to know you better.’
She lowered her eyes. She looked so lovely Harry had to restrain himself from shoving away the table and taking her in his arms.
‘I must ask my father,’ she said quietly, not looking at him.
Harry thought: God! Now, what have I started?
‘Do you have to?’ he asked, alarmed.
She looked at him and smiled reassuringly.
‘My father has great admiration for Americans. He is very understanding. What would you like to eat?’
‘Oh . . .’ Harry relaxed. ‘To eat? Oh, anything . . . I’m not hungry.’
She nodded and went away.
Harry lit a cigarette and stared out of the window. Was he walking into
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