the chances are that he'd grow up a little. It's not as if
he were stupid."
"Why haven't you talked with Dr. Tangle?" Liz asked. "You have the one
man right in Midhaven who could help you, and you won't ask him."
Pat raised his eyebrows and looked at her disgustedly. "I suppose, next,
you'll suggest that Yale could go to Midhaven College. Wouldn't Doctor
Tangle go for that, though?" he asked sarcastically. "The son of Pat
Marratt attending a Baptist theological school . . . Jesus Christ!"
"It hasn't been a theological school for years, and you know it, Pat.
Only last week, at the Woman's Club, Doctor Tangle was talking about the
changes that have occurred at Midhaven College. Midhaven has a complete
curriculum. It's recognized as equal to any college in the East. In a way,
you should be proud of Doctor Tangle. He has done a lot for Midhaven."
"So, I haven't done anything for Midhaven? Just because I haven't the time
to monkey around in city politics and I don't go around to Women's Clubs
shooting off my mouth about the glorious city of Midhaven. . . . Just you
remember that if the Marratt Corporation folded up -- several thousand
people in Midhaven would go hungry! What has Doctor Tangle done to put
bread in their mouths?"
Pat wanted to continue the discussion, but Liz interrupted him with a
request for a few hundred dollars. Pat chuckled. "For Christ-sakes, Liz,
you're the limit. You go to some damned meeting and listen to a smooth
old bastard like Doctor Tangle; you swallow his oily ideas hook, line
and sinker. But, when your husband tries to explain what he is doing, it
just doesn't have 'class,' does it? It's just old Pat wound up in some
sales garbage. It's the way he makes all that dirty money. Well, if it
weren't for me and the Marratt Corporation, your dear Doctor Tangle would
be back in China whacking the bushes in search of converts. Instead he
lives a life of luxury . . . President of Midhaven College and Pastor of
the Midhaven Congregational Church. Do you know that his last quarterly
dividend check, courtesy of Pat Marratt, amounted to five thousand three
hundred and ninety-three dollars? Brother, what a return to get every
three months on an investment of two thousand dollars."
"Bye, bye, Hon -- I've got to go," Liz smiled. She had heard Pat rave on
the subject of Doctor Tangle's good fortune many times before. As she was
about to close the door, a thought occurred to her. "Speaking of Doctor
Tangle reminds me that it's been at least three months since we've had
him out to dinner. It might be a nice gesture to keep in closer touch
with the only other stockholder in the Marratt Corporation. If you did,
you might discover that Amos gives most of his dividends to the Doctor
Tangle Scholarship Fund for worthy students at Midhaven College."
"Oh, shit -- next thing you'll suggest that Yale apply for a scholarship.
Goodbye! Stop and see Frank Middleton on the way out. He and Marie expect
us to dinner tomorrow."
Pat looked closely at Liz when he mentioned Frank Middleton. Middleton
was Vice President in charge of production. Although he had risen
to his present job with the same rough and ready background as Pat
Marratt, somewhere Middleton had acquired a gloss and polish. Frank
Middleton irritated Pat, but Pat couldn't help but admire him. He knew
that Middleton with his throaty, radio announcer's voice and his wavy
grey hair was the cynosure of most female gatherings. Liz had betrayed
no reaction, however, and Pat said to himself . . . "The hell with it
. . . why worry . . . it's only sex." But he knew the worry was there.
It cropped up every time he saw Liz and Frank together.
His thoughts returned to Doctor Tangle . . . twenty-three years. Liz's
mother had picked Amos Tangle to marry them. He had been an assistant
minister, then.
It made little difference to Pat. On his death bed, Pat's father had
requested a priest. Pat remembered his mother, who was cockney