"We lived by the Chesapeake Bay," the psychiatrist replied, and spoke in such an acerbic tone as if to mask the fact that his answer was something short of an informative answer. In truth, Chilton had applied to a couple area country clubs -- the more academic-dominated ones, the kind that bred Georgetown scholars -- and was (as he would phrase it) "still waiting upon reply".

No replies would come. Both clubs had nautical outlets. Chilton enjoyed the image of sailing more than the actual effort of it, so he had tried his hand only enough to get licensed.

Abel Gideon, he thought ruefully, was probably a member of three clubs, at least.

"Does she not take you at face value, then? Is it because she's caught wise, and realized how untrustworthy you are? How uncooperative?"