“Wow, Ruth that place gives me the infernal jimjams.”
“Now Jimmy dont get peevish because you need food.”
“But tell me Ruth, what the hell is Mr. Oglethorpe? He beats anything I ever saw.”
“Oh did the Ogle come out of his lair?” Ruth let out a whoop of laughter. They came out into grimy sunlight. “Did he tell you he was of the main brawnch, dontcher know, of the Oglethorpes of Georgiah?”
“Is that lovely girl with copper hair his wife?”
“Elaine Oglethorpe has reddish hair. She’s not so darn lovely either. … She’s just a kid and she’s upstage as the deuce already. All because she made a kind of a hit in Peach Blossoms. You know one of these tiny exquisite bits everybody makes such a fuss over. She can act all right.”
“It’s a shame she’s got that for a husband.”
“Ogle’s done everything in the world for her. If it hadnt been for him she’d still be in the chorus …”
“Beauty and the beast.”
“You’d better look out if he sets his lamps on you Jimmy.”
“Why?”
“Strange fish, Jimmy, strange fish.”
An Elevated train shattered the barred sunlight overhead. He could see Ruth’s mouth forming words.
“Look,” he shouted above the diminishing clatter. “Let’s go have brunch at the Campus and then go for a walk on the Palisades.”
“You nut Jimmy what’s brunch?”
“You’ll eat breakfast and I’ll eat lunch.”
“It’ll be a scream.” Whooping with laughter she put her arm in his. Her silvernet bag knocked against his elbow as they walked.
“And what about Cassie, the mysterious Cassandra?”
“You mustn’t laugh at her, she’s a peach. … If only she wouldn’t keep that horrid little white poodle. She keeps it in her room and it never gets any exercise and it smells something terrible. She has that little room next to mine. … Then she’s got a steady …” Ruth giggled. “He’s worse than the poodle. They’re engaged and he borrows all her money away from her. For Heaven’s sake dont tell anybody.”
“I dont know anybody to tell.”
“Then there’s Mrs. Sunderland …”
“Oh yes I got a glimpse of her going into the bathroom—an old lady in a wadded dressing gown with a pink boudoir cap on.”
“Jimmy you shock me. … She keeps losing her false teeth,” began Ruth; an L train drowned out the rest. The restaurant door closing behind them choked off the roar of wheels on rails.
An orchestra was playing “When It’s Appleblossom Time in Normandee.” The place was full of smokewrithing slants of sunlight, paper festoons, signs announcing Lobsters Arrive Daily, Eat Clams Now, Try Our Delicious French Style Steamed Mussels (Recommended by the Department of Agriculture). They sat down under a redlettered placard Beefsteak Parties Upstairs and Ruth made a pass at him with a breadstick. “Jimmy do you think it’d be immoral to eat scallops for breakfast? But first I’ve got to have coffee coffee coffee …”
“I’m going to eat a small steak and onions.”
“Not if you’re intending to spend the afternoon with me Mr. Herf.”
“Oh all right. Ruth I lay my onions at your feet.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you kiss me.”
“What … on the Palisades?” Ruth’s giggle broke into a whoop of laughter. Jimmy blushed crimson. “I never axed you maam, he say‑ed.”
Sunlight dripped in her face through the little holes in the brim of her straw hat. She was walking with brisk steps too short on account of her narrow skirt; through the thin china silk the sunlight tingled like a hand stroking her back. In the heavy heat streets, stores, people in Sunday clothes, strawhats, sunshades, surfacecars, taxis, broke and crinkled brightly about her grazing her with sharp cutting glints as if she were walking through piles of metalshavings. She was groping continually through a tangle of gritty saw-edged brittle noise.
At Lincoln Square a girl rode slowly through the traffic on a white horse; chestnut hair hung down in even faky waves over the horse’s chalky rump and over the giltedged saddlecloth where in green letters pointed with crimson, read Danderine. She had on a green Dolly Varden hat with a crimson plume; one hand in a white gauntlet nonchalantly jiggled at the reins, in the other wabbled a goldknobbed riding crop.
Ellen watched her pass; then she followed a smudge of green through a cross-street to the Park. A smell of trampled sunsinged grass came from boys playing baseball. All the shady benches were full of people. When she crossed the curving automobile road her sharp French heels sank into the asphalt. Two sailors were sprawling on a bench in the sun; one of them popped his lips as she passed, she could feel their seagreedy eyes cling stickily to her neck, her thighs, her ankles. She tried to keep her hips from swaying so much as she walked. The leaves were shriveled on the saplings along the path. South and east sunnyfaced buildings hemmed in the Park, to the west they were violet with shadow. Everything was itching sweaty dusty constrained by policemen and Sunday clothes. Why hadn’t she taken the L? She was looking in the black eyes of a young man in a straw hat who was drawing up a red Stutz roadster to the curb. His eyes twinkled in hers, he jerked back his head smiling an upsidedown smile, pursing his lips so that they seemed to brush her cheek. He pulled the lever of the brake and opened the door with the other hand. She snapped her eyes away and walked on with her chin up. Two pigeons with metalgreen necks and feet of coral waddled out of her way. An old man was coaxing a squirrel to fish for peanuts in a paper bag.
All in green on a white stallion rode the Lady of the Lost Battalion. … Green, green, danderine … Godiva in the haughty mantle of her hair. …
General Sherman in gold interrupted her. She stopped a second to look at the Plaza that gleamed white as motherofpearl. … Yes this is Elaine Oglethorpe’s apartment. … She climbed up onto a Washington
