SHE HURRIED PAST THE POLITE GREETING OF the concierge, up the three narrow flights of the staircase.
She'd stayed at the studio later than she thought. There would be just enough time to prepare dinner before Peggy got home.
Rina went through the tiny living room into the kitchen. Swiftly she lit the gas under the hot-water heater for the tub and with the same match, the oven, leaving the flame low.
She took the small, browned chicken she'd just purchased, already cooked, at the corner rotisserie and put it into a pan and into the oven to keep warm.
Rapidly she sliced bread from a long loaf, arranged it next to a large piece of cheese and began to set the table.
In a few minutes, she was finished.
She looked down at her watch.
There would even be time enough for a bath if the water was hot enough.
She walked over and felt the tank. It was lukewarm. There would be enough if she didn't fill the tub more than half full.
She walked back into the living room on her way to the bathroom, her fingers already busy with the buttons of her blouse.
The door opened and she turned toward it.
"You're early," she said.
Peggy looked at her coldly and without answering, she closed the door behind her.
Rina shrugged her shoulders.
Peggy had these moods.
One moment, she'd be bright, warm and gay, the next cold, even sullen.
It would pass.
"There's some wine and cheese on the table if you'd like something before dinner," she said, starting for the bathroom again.
Peggy's hand spun her around.
"I thought I told you not to see Deschamps again!"
Rina stared at her.
So that was it.
Someone must have seen them at the restaurant and told Peggy.
Strange that of all the men they knew, Peggy was jealous of none except Jacques.
The younger men never upset her, but Jacques, with his curious, confident smile and the bright-gray hair at his temples, always managed to upset her.
"I just ran into him and he invited me to lunch," she said. It wasn't that she was afraid of Peggy's jealous rages but she didn't feel like having a quarrel. "I just couldn't be rude."
"Then where were you all afternoon?" Peggy demanded.
"You weren't at art school, you weren't home.
I kept calling both places until I became frantic with worry."
"I didn't feel like going to school," she said.
Peggy's eyes squinted at her.
"You didn't walk over to his apartment, by any chance?"
Rina stared back at her. "No, I didn't."
"He was seen entering his apartment with a blonde about four o'clock."
Rina raised an eyebrow.
Jacques hadn't wasted any time.
"I'm not the only blonde in Paris," she said.
"He didn't answer his phone," Peggy said accusingly.
Rina smiled. "I can't say that I blame him, do you?"
Peggy's hand slashed across Rina's face. "You're lying!"
Rina's hand flew to her cheek.
She stared at Peggy. The other side of her face flamed as Peggy slapped her again. She grabbed Rina's shoulders and began to shake her. "Now I want the truth!"
"I told you the truth!" Rina screamed. She struck out at Peggy wildly.
Peggy fell back in surprise at the sudden onslaught. A hurt expression came over her face.
"Why do you do these things to me when you know I love you so much?" Rina stared at her. For the first time, a feeling of revulsion swept over her. First for Peggy, then for herself.
Almost instantly, Peggy threw herself to her knees, her arms clasped around Rina's thighs. "Please, please, darling, don't look at me like that.
Don't be angry with me. I'm sorry. I was crazy jealous."
Rina's face ached where it had been slapped.
Suddenly, she was tired.
"Don't do that again – ever," she said wearily.