“Oh, Ben, I knew he was just joking,” Terry said. “I mean, there would have been a lot of noise and everything. Orgies are by definition noisy. Everyone knows that.”
She went over and sat down on the sofa between the young man named Ben and the books. The other young man, the one called Farley, seated himself by the simple expedient of backing against the arm of an overstuffed chair and falling across it into the seat. During this maneuver, he adroitly preserved the integrity of his beer.
“Are you disappointed?” Farley said.
“I am, rather,” Terry said. “Orgies can be quite pleasant if they’re conducted properly.”
“That comment,” said the young man with the squint and the crooked nose, “requires some excogitating. It raises an arguable point. Are orgies ever proper?”
“Moreover,” said Farley, “I doubt that they are ‘conducted.’ In my experience, they just start somehow and grow.”
“That is exactly the kind of academic quibbling I’d expect from a law student and an embryo historian,” Terry said. “You’re just making excuses for not providing me with interesting entertainment.”
“You’re right.” Ben, the young man on the sofa, deftly snared his can, took a long swallow from it, and rebalanced it on his stomach. “If I had time, I’d get an orgy started. Unfortunately, I have to leave soon. I hate to walk out on any kind of entertainment, proper or otherwise.”
“That’s true,” said Farley. “Old Ben is off on a mysterious excursion for the weekend. Even I have not been admitted to his confidence, but I suspect the complicity of my sweet little sister in the apartment upstairs. Damn it, Ben, would you actually consort with the little sister of your friend and roomie?”
“Nothing of the sort.” Old Ben squinted at his friend and roomie with incredible malevolence. “Fanny has nothing to do with it.”
“Where are you going?” Terry said.
“That,” said Ben, “is for me to know and you to find out.”
“There’s no use asking him,” said Farley. “He simply won’t tell me. For my part, I’m reconciled to his lack of faith in me, shabby though it is. We were just having a couple of parting beers.”
“As I see it,” Terry said, “you are still having them, and I would have one with you, if only someone had the good manners to ask me.”
“Farley,” said Ben, “what in hell has happened to your manners? Why don’t you ask Terry to have a beer?”
“Excuse me,” Farley said. “Terry, will you have a beer?”
“Yes, I will,” Terry said.
Farley, bailed out of his chair over the arm, as he had got in, and started for the kitchen.
“While you are in the refrigerator,” said Terry, “I’d appreciate it if you would get me three fresh carrots.”
Farley came to an abrupt halt. He seemed to be having difficulty with the message.
“Did you say three fresh carrots?” he said.
“Yes, medium-sized, if you please.”
“Why in the devil, if I may ask, would you simply assume that you could borrow anything like three fresh carrots from a couple of bachelor students?”
“Why not? You and Ben cook most of your own meals, don’t you? It’s perfectly reasonable to assume that you might have carrots around the place.”
“I consider it most unlikely. Ben, do we have any carrots around the place?”
“As a matter of fact, we do,” Ben said. “I bought some yesterday at the market.”
“Well, I’ll be!” Farley turned again and got into motion. “I wouldn’t be more surprised to find the damn refrigerator stocked with opium.”
They could hear him rattling around in the refrigerator and cursing mildly because he couldn’t remember where he had left the beer opener.
“How long have you and Farley known each other?” Terry asked Ben.
“Not long. We met on campus a week or two before we decided to move in here together.”
“I’ve been wondering about that. Why did you? I mean, decide to move in here together?”
“Because it’s better than a single room. Two can pay the rent on an apartment easier than one.”
“I thought maybe it was so Farley could live near Fanny.”
“You thought wrong, honey. It’s true that Fanny put us on to the vacancy, but Farley grabbed it because there wasn’t anything else available. You didn’t take that brotherly indignation seriously, did you? Fanny’s a complicated little devil. Declaration of independence, and all that. She knows her way around.”
“Farley’s very goodlooking. I wonder why he always deliberately looks as if he bought his clothes at a rummage sale? After all, he’s going to be a lawyer in a year or so. Aren’t lawyers supposed to wear collars and ties and coats and like that?”
“He practicing to be Clarence Darrow.”
“Really? Who’s that?”
“Never mind.”
At that moment Farley returned bearing beer and carrots. He gave both to Terry, who laid the carrots on the sofa beside her and took a drink out of the can. Farley, employing the same technique as before, resumed his seat in the chair.
“As a matter of curiosity,” he said, “would you mind telling me what you’re going to do with those carrots?”
“It will be a pleasure,” Terry said. “I’m going to put them in a Student’s Ragout.”
“What the hell is a ragout?”
“A ragout,” said Ben, “is a hell of a mess cooked together.”
“Roughly speaking,” Terry said, “that’s it.”
“But what, precisely,” Ben said, “is a Student’s Ragout? As a dyspeptic bachelor, I’m always interested in recipes.”
“Student’s Ragout is the Crown Prince of all ragouts.”
“Well, you needn’t sound so damn esoteric about it. Is the recipe a jealously guarded secret or something?”
“Not in the least. Would you like me to tell it to you?”
“That’s what I was hinting at.”
“It’s quite simple. To begin with, you take a heavy pot or a deep skillet. Myself, I use my electric skillet. Then you cut strips of bacon in half and cover the bottom of the skillet with them. Next, you cut a pound or so of lean round steak into strips about one-half inch by an inch and a half. Cover the bacon with these and salt and pepper them. Take the carrots next. Slice them paper-thin and spread the slices over the steak. Then slice three good-sized onions paper-thin and spread them over the carrots. Finally add three or four potatoes, depending on the size, also sliced paper-thin and spread over the onions. Salt and pepper the potatoes and cook covered, over low heat. In my opinion, you should add a generous amount of water to be sure that the ragout stays good and moist. There’s lots of liquid in the vegetables, of course, but a little more is necessary, and quite a bit more doesn’t hurt.”
Farley and Ben, during this recital, stared at Terry with expressions of astonishment. When she was finished they were silent for a moment, then Farley turned to Ben.
“Did you hear how she rattled that off?” he said.
“By God,” said Ben, “it was absolutely incredible.”
“That’s true,” Farley said. “Somehow you don’t think of old Terry in the kitchen. You think of her in the bedroom, surrounded by silk sheets and mirrors and oceans of lotions, painting her toe-nails and plucking her brows and doing other things.”
“What do you mean by ‘other things’?” demanded Terry.
“What he had in mind,” Ben said, “was sex. You’ll have to admit, in all fairness, Terry, that you’re sexy.”
“Well,” said Terry, “what’s wrong with sex in the kitchen?”
“Now that you ask,” Ben said, “I can’t think of a thing.”
“Returning reluctantly to the ragout,” Farley said, “I must say that I was fetched by the sound of it. Ben, you’re a better cook than I am. You’ll have to try it when you get back from your weekend.”