How was I going to play this? Bluntly, I thought. ‘Well,’ I said looking directly into her eyes, ‘my favourite subject at present is the man I�...m sleeping with, Mike. What’s yours?’ A look of shock mixed with anger passed across her face and I knew that I was right. I hadn’t misread her expression on Sunday evening, she wanted him badly, I was sure. ‘I, um, I, er, I don’t know what you mean,’ she stumbled, ‘anyway, I’m not sleeping with anybody!’ Oh, nice try, I thought. ‘I think you do know. "There was a woman, Ida something." Right, Ida Tarbell, magazine writer mainly, she said that with imagination, anything was possible, something like that. That's a neat idea. Imagination. What did she do; whom did she write about? Charlie?" Standard Oil, Rockefeller." The bright boy stayed slumped down in his seat, pretending disinterest. "John I think, John D. Rockefeller." Exactly. So? What happened? What about Rockefeller? Who's he? Go on Charlie."A young woman, a student in a long skirt,. More

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