nice to give me the bracelet. It’s lovely. But it’s terribly expensive and I know you can’t afford it.”
“Well, I don’t mind telling you it isn’t paid for.”
“Then please take it back.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to do that.”
“I’d much rather you would. Let me keep it a day or two, to show people. After that, you return it.”
“Well, we’ll see.”
“You could return it, couldn’t you?”
“I suppose so.”
“You’ve got to then. You can give me something else, when you’re playing again.”
“We’ll see.”
“You started to tell me at dinner about—”
“About what?”
“About a date with Kennedy.”
“Oh, yes. He’s got an idea for a scene in a barber shop. He wants to talk it over with me before he writes it. He’s going to Southampton tomorrow morning for the weekend and if I like the idea, he’ll work on it there. If I see him, he won’t have any excuse not to work. So I told him I’d be at the club. He’s at some banquet, but he promised he’d leave early. I’ll drop you if you don’t mind, and go on down there. If I see it’s going to take long, I’ll give you a ring. Would you like to go some place and dance, provided I get away?”
“I don’t believe so, not tonight. I’m kind of tired.”
“Well, maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow night and we can see a show or something.”
“All right.”
“Here you are. Maybe if you’re tired, I’d better not ring you.”
“Do just as you like.”
“Well, good night—Mrs. Shane.”
“Good night, Jim.”
The driver turned his back on their kiss.
“Take me to the club, Fred. Then you can go home.”
Ruth, in the taxi with her brother-in-law, vainly sought enlightenment.
“That,” she began, “was the queerest wedding I ever went to.”
“It was kind of queer.”
“Aren’t you going to explain it to me?”
“It’s hard to explain. They’re a queer couple; that’s all.”
“She’s a lot too good for him.”
“She probably is. But he certainly didn’t force her into the marriage at the point of a revolver.”
Alice, however, was prevailed on to talk while Ed was out in the kitchen, fixing himself a highball.
“Ed wouldn’t tell you about it because he doesn’t like you to think our friends are funny. He didn’t want you to go but I knew it would be an experience for you.”
“I’m glad I went. But I don’t want to remain mystified.”
“Well, you see Brownie and Jim have been going together a long, long time. I don’t know whether she still loves him or not, but she’s used to him and she couldn’t give him up without a struggle. And she’s terribly proud.
“She can’t bear to have anybody feel sorry for her and she was afraid they would if she and Jim didn’t keep on. So when it began to look as if she might lose him, she got desperate and threatened to sue him for breach of promise. In fact, she had a lawyer threaten him. The suit was to be for some terrible amount like two hundred thousand.”
“But could she have won it?”
“Undoubtedly, and tied his salary up for heaven knows how long. But he beat that game by saying he’d marry her and he’s gone through with it, leaving her, of course, with no ground for a suit.”
“But can’t she divorce him and get alimony? I mean, if he doesn’t behave,” said Ruth.
“Her pride will keep her from that, for a couple of years at least. And I suppose he figures that by then he’ll find some way of getting out of it cheaper.”
Jimmy Shane entered his club and stopped at the desk.
“I’m expecting a long-distance from Philadelphia,” he said. “I’ll be playing billiards.”
He played three cushions with Frank Kennedy, who was to do the book for his next show. Neither of them appeared to remember that there was a barbershop scene to discuss.
Jimmy was called to the telephone at eleven.
“Hello, dear.”
“Hello, dear.”
“Did it happen?”
“Yes. It’s all over.”
“Do you feel any different?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure.”
“What are you doing now?”
“Playing billiards with Kennedy.”
“Will you be over tomorrow?”
“If I possibly can. But I don’t know.”
“You can if you want to.”
“I’ll try.”
“Try hard.”
“I will.”
“What did they say about my bracelet?”
“It’ll be all right. The clasp was sprung a little. It’s no job to fix, but they’re flooded with work. And I told them to clean it up. So you can’t have it till sometime next week.”
“Are you going to call me in the morning?”
“About noon. As soon as I know if I can come.”
Jimmy went back to his game.
“Your shot,” said Kennedy.
“Yes, and I hope I don’t get another phone call. You couldn’t have left them tougher if you’d placed them with your hands.”
Dinner
Harry Barton was thirty-three years old, unmarried and good-looking. Young matrons liked him as a filler-in at dinner parties, but he hated dinner parties unless they promised an evening of contract. So it was with a heavy heart that he heard Grace Halpern’s voice on the telephone.
“You’ve just got to do this for me! I know you’ll hate it. There won’t be any bridge. But Frank backed out at the last minute and I can’t get anybody else. I honestly tried. I tried Bill; I even tried Lester Graham, but neither of them can come. And I must have two bachelors because there are going to be two girls from out of town, girls who were in my class in boarding school. They really are peaches and I can’t disappoint them. Please say—”
Harry was a bad liar and, besides, he liked Grace. He had had lots of good times at her house. He said yes and wished all the rest of the day that he hadn’t.
He arrived late at the Halperns’, too late to get half enough cocktails. He knew everybody there excepting the two peaches, a Miss Coakley and a Miss Rell. They were strikingly pretty, Miss Coakley a pony brunette and Miss Rell a rather tall, slender blonde. Harry thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.
His hostess drew him aside before dinner was
