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.He had once declared: when he got a stewardess pregnant, she went first class.From his own point of view, it was a bloody nuisance that Gwen had got a bun in the oven at this particular time, just when he was building an extension on his house which, he remembered gloomily, had already gone over budget.Oh well, he would have to sell some stock—General Dynamics, probably; he had a nice capital gain there, and it was about time to take a profit.He would call his broker right after getting back from Rome—and Naples.He asked, “You’re still coming to Naples with me?”“Of course; I’ve been looking forward to it.Besides, I brought a new negligee.You’ll see it tomorrow night.”He stood up from the table and grinned.“You’re a shameless hussy.”“A shameless pregnant hussy who shamelessly loves you.Do you love me?”She came to him, and he kissed her mouth, face, and an ear.He probed her pinna with his tongue, felt her arms tighten in response, then whispered, “Yes, I love you.” At the moment, he reflected, it was true.“Vernon, dear.”“Yes?”Her cheek was soft against his.Her voice came, muffled, from his shoulder.“I meant what I said.You don’t have to help me.But if you really want to, that’s different.”“I want to.” He decided he would sound her out about an abortion, on their way to the airport.Gwen disengaged herself and glanced at her watch; it was 8:20.“It’s time, Captain, sir.We’d better go.”“I guess you know you really don’t have to worry,” Vernon Demerest said to Gwen as they drove.“Airlines are used to having their unmarried stewardesses get pregnant.It happens all the time.The last report I read, the national airline average was ten percent, per year.”Their discussion, he noted approvingly, was becoming increasingly matter-of-fact.Good!—it was important to steer Gwen away from any emotional nonsense about this baby of hers.If she did become emotional, Demerest knew, all sorts of awkward things could happen, impeding commonsense.He was handling the Mercedes carefully, with the delicate yet firm touch which was second nature to him when controlling any piece of machinery, including a car or airplane.The suburban streets, which were newly cleared when he drove from the airport to Gwen’s apartment, were thickly snow-covered again.Snow was still coming down continuously, and there were deepening drifts in wind-exposed places, away from the shelter of buildings.Captain Demerest warily skirted the larger drifts.He had no intention of getting stuck nor did he even want to get out of the car until the shelter of the enclosed Trans America parking lot was reached.Curled into the leather bucket seat beside him, Gwen said incredulously, “Is that really true—that every year, ten out of every hundred stewardesses get pregnant?”He assured her, “It varies slightly each year, but it’s usually pretty close.Oh, the pill has changed things a bit, but the way I hear it, not as much as you’d expect.As a union officer I have access to that kind of information.”He waited for Gwen to comment.When she made none, he went on, “What you have to remember is that airline stewardesses are mostly young girls, from the country, or modest city homes.They’ve had a quiet upbringing, an average life.Suddenly, they have a glamour job; they travel, meet interesting people, stay in the best hotels.It’s their first taste of la dolce vita.” He grinned.“Once in a while that first taste leaves some sediment in the glass.”“That’s a rotten thing to say!” For the first time since he had known her, Gwen’s temper flared.She said indignantly, “You sound so superior; just like a man.If I have any sediment in my glass, or in me, let me remind you that it’s yours, and even if we didn’t plan to leave it there, I think I’d find a better name for it than that.Also, if you’re lumping me together with all those girls you talked about from the country and ‘modest city homes,’ I don’t like that one damn bit either.”There was heightened color in Gwen’s cheeks; her eyes flashed angrily.“Hey!” he said.“I like your spirit.”“Well, keep on saying things like you did just now, and you’ll see more of it.”“Was I that bad?”“You were insufferable.”“Then I’m sorry.” Demerest slowed the car and stopped at a traffic light which shone with myriad red reflections through the falling snow.They waited in silence until, with Christmas card effect, the color winked to green.When they were moving again, he said carefully, “I didn’t mean to lump you with anybody, because you’re an exception.You’re a sophisticate who got careless.You said you did, yourself.I guess we were both careless.”“All right.” Gwen’s anger was dissipating.“But don’t ever put me in bunches.I’m me; no one else.”They were quiet for several moments, then Gwen said thoughtfully, “I suppose we could call him that.”“Call who what?”“You made me remember what I said earlier—about a little Vernon Demerest inside me.If we had a boy, we could call him Vernon Demerest, Junior, the way Americans do
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