Vivienne wanted to take Vera's hand outside. It was a simple answer, though she immediately found a way to decorate it: she liked having the rest of Vera within reach indoors, too. They were still dancing, managing another turn without casualties, when she proposed a little walk around the block. No orchestra was required. Neither was a room of strangers noticing them. What pleased her was the thought of leaving Vera's door together.
Vera liked the answer more than she liked the prospect of putting her shoes back on. They had only just found something enjoyable to do in the room that did not involve tarragon. She asked Vivienne to stay another half hour, making the request precise enough to be answered. An unfinished dance was not an assumption about the whole night. She had wanted to know whether Vivienne would take her hand, she said, rather than arrange a practical examination. Still, leaving together sounded better than watching Vivienne go.
Vivienne agreed to stay, but objected to the examination. She had wanted a walk; she had not proposed dragging Vera past an illuminated window to demand witnesses. Her indignation was gathering sufficient momentum to threaten the table, so she stopped their dance. Then she asked Vera to sit with her. The invitation came with an admission less polished than the joke about witnesses: she liked being asked to stay, and she also liked leaving before she began checking whether the person who had asked was tired of her. She had made that habit look wonderfully considerate.
Vera accepted the place beside her and claimed some of the cushion. She also conceded the argument. Wanting her own answer to win, she had turned the walk into an accusation. She apologised without replacing it with an impossible assurance. She could not promise that Vivienne would never tire her; Vivienne had, after all, a way of arguing with the radio. Tonight, though, Vera was enjoying her. If she wanted to be alone, she would say so. Could Vivienne bear remaining there without working to keep herself entertaining?
Six minutes, Vivienne estimated. Seven if Vera was touching her. She promptly clarified that this was a joke rather than a maintenance requirement, accepted the apology, and surrendered the disputed elbow room. She leaned against Vera because she wanted to. Nothing interesting needed to be said about that, which did not quite prevent her from saying something interesting. When Vera had asked her to stay, Vivienne had almost launched into another story. Something would have happened in it. Sitting down beside Vera had seemed considerably more difficult.
Vera did not require her to become solemn in order to qualify for the cushion. She liked the stories. Her arm could go around Vivienne without their having to turn the arrangement into a study. Then she admitted to a diversion of her own. She had nearly offered coffee. Making it would have meant standing up, grinding it, finding the little cups: an admirable string of occupations for someone who had wanted Vivienne sitting exactly there since supper. Vera, too, could keep herself busy enough to miss what she wanted.
Vivienne asked her to leave the coffee unmade a little longer. She liked the arm around her, and she liked discovering that Vera had wanted her there before she had happened upon the correct cushion. She kissed Vera's cheek. No cup needed finding for that, either. The walk had not ceased to appeal merely because staying did. When she eventually left, would Vera accompany her as far as the corner? Vivienne wanted some more of the evening indoors and a little of it outside. She left room for Vera to prefer an ending at the door.
Vera chose the corner, offering her hand if Vivienne still wanted it then. First, she wanted to keep this part of the evening. She also welcomed another kiss on the same cheek: trying so diligently not to move had rather interfered with enjoying her excellent fortune. The invitation was answered, but the departure had not begun. Coffee remained a possibility neither woman had chosen to make.
There was something Vera did want now. Not a performance to earn the remaining half hour, and not a fee for occupying the cushion. She wanted to hear the story Vivienne had almost told. Of all the stories available to her, which had she reached for when sitting beside Vera seemed dangerous? Vera's curiosity left the evening open at a very particular place: had the story been funny, or had Vivienne merely intended to make it sound that way?