Part 10 (1/2)

”Ah,” she said. ”You poor lamb.”

”That guy from Detroit is going to be there at nine,” he said, ”and I've got a meeting at half-past ten, and we've got to fix up those contracts at twelve, and then I have to have lunch with J. G. and give him that report, and I've got G.o.d knows how many appointments all afternoon. Oh, I haven't got much to do tomorrow. Not very much!”

”Ah,” she said.

”I've got to get downtown at crack o' dawn,” he said. ”I can't rock into the office around eleven o'clock, the way I've been-All right, Gus, put them right here. Well, here we go. Yours all right?”

”Oh, it's lovely,” she said. ”Oo, it's strong, though.”

”They are pretty powerful,” he said. ”It'll do you good. Can't hurt anybody, if you just have one or two, and get to bed early. It's this staying up till crack o' dawn that knocks the h.e.l.l out of you. I'm not going to do it any more. Starting tonight, I'm just going to have a couple of drinks, and go to bed before twelve. Then I'll feel more like getting down to work at crack o' dawn.”

”I think that's terribly sensible,” she said.

”It's the only thing to do,” he said. ”I'm through with this stuff. I've been drinking too d.a.m.n much. Everybody's been telling me I look terrible. Don't I look terrible?”

”Why, I don't think you do at all,” she said. ”You look a little bit tired sometimes, the way everybody does. But I think you look fine. You look lovely.”

”That's what you say!” he said. ”I look terrible. I know it. Go on and finish yours, and we'll have one more. Oh, Gus! Couple of specials, will you? I should have told him to hurry. We've got to get out of here right away. What a day I've got tomorrow!”

”Oh, I know,” she said. ”Poor boy.”

”Loosen your coat, why don't you?” he said. ”You'll be cold when you go out.”

”All right, I will,” she said. ”Hadn't you better take your m.u.f.fler off?”

”Well, I might as well,” he said. ”It's hot in here. Rotten air, in these places. Bad for you. I'm not going to sit around speakeasies any more. Worst thing you can do. Thanks, Gus. That's what I call service. Well, here we go.”

”Oo, they taste strong,” she said. ”Lord knows what they'll do to us.”

”Can't hurt you, if you do like this,” he said, ”-just have a couple and then go home. It's all right to stay up and drink if you can sleep all the next day, but it's a different proposition when you've got to be downtown at crack o' dawn. I'm not going to get plastered and stay out all night any more. Except maybe Sat.u.r.day nights.”

”I think that's a terribly good idea,” she said.

”You know what I may do?” he said. ”I may go on the wagon altogether. It wouldn't hurt me a bit to go on for a while. It wouldn't hurt you, either.”

”I don't drink so terribly much,” she said.

”Oh, you do pretty well, there, baby,” he said. ”Everybody drinks too much. It's enough to poison you. I don't see how we're alive, the stuff we drink. I'm going on the wagon. Come ahead and finish your drink. Want another?”

”No, thanks,” she said.

”Sure?” he said.

”No, really,” she said.

”Tell you what I thought we might do,” he said. ”As long as I'm going on the wagon-and it would do you a lot of good to go on, too, dear, honestly it would-I thought we might have another little drink, tonight. What about it?”

”Why-if you want to,” she said. ”As a matter of fact, these haven't done anything at all to me.”

”Me, either,” he said. ”They're cheating us. Hey, Gus! Two more specials, and put something in them this time, will you? And don't forget we're in a hurry. G.o.d, I've got to get down to that office on time tomorrow! I've got the worst day I ever had in my life.”

”Ah, I know,” she said.

”That's right, take your coat off,” he said. ”It's hot as h.e.l.l in here. Wait a minute till I get mine off, and I'll help you. There. You all right, sweet?”

”Oh, I'm fine,” she said. ”Isn't it funny, the way those drinks didn't touch me?”

”That's because we've all been drinking too much,” he said. ”That's the beauty about going on the wagon. When you fall off and have a couple of drinks, it gives you such a nice glow you don't need any more. But if you've been drinking, see what I mean, you've got to keep it up before you can get anything. See? Oh, thanks, Gus. That's fine. Well, here we go.”

”That's a nice one,” she said.

”Sure,” he said. ”It's got something in it, for a change. They'll gyp the life out of you in these places if you don't watch them every minute. I'm through with them. I'm d.a.m.n glad I'm going on the wagon. That's the best idea I've had in a long while. Hey, don't nurse it along like that, dear. Drink it quick. See, like this.”

”Like this?” she said.

”That's more like it,” he said. ”Now maybe you'll hear from it. You'll never get anywhere, sipping a drink. Come on, now, one more swallow. Good girl. Oh, Gus! Couple more, while you're up.”

”Are you crazy?” she said. ”We haven't finished these ones yet.”

”We'll be through by the time he brings the others,” he said. ”Then we won't have to sit around and wait. See? We've got to get along. Honestly, I've got to be in the office at crack o' dawn, tomorrow. What a day!”

”Yes,” she said. ”I know.”

”Do I know!” he said. ”Hurry up, dear. Drink your drink. Finished? Oh, come on and finish it-stop stalling. That's the way. Here's Gus; pretty work, Gus. Gus is my friend, aren't you Gus? Sure you are. Gus and I are old friends. Well, here we go, dear. Have a little nightcap. Make you sleep.”

”I usually always sleep pretty well,” she said.

”No use talking, I've got to get more sleep,” he said. ”I look terrible. My mother worries her head off about me. Every time she writes me a letter, she says, 'Take care of yourself.' Yeah. I take fine care of myself. She's got a right to worry. I'm a nice guy, I am. You know what? I haven't written to my mother for three weeks. That's nice, isn't it?”

”You ought to write to her,” she said.

”Where the h.e.l.l do I get time to write?” he said. ”I haven't got any time to write letters. G.o.d, I ought to write to my mother. I'll write to her tomorrow. Oh, Judas, I can't write tomorrow. I've got a terrible day tomorrow. Terrible!”

”Really?” she said.

”I've got so much to do tomorrow, I won't even have time to write to my poor, sweet mother,” he said. ”That's only how busy I'm going to be. It's no wonder my poor, sweet mother worries. She worries the head off herself about me. You don't love me.”

”I do so!” she said.

”Yes, you do!” he said.

”I certainly do!” she said. ”What do you want to say a thing like that for?”

”I know,” he said. ”I know.”