“Well, a bull is—”
“Have you ever been to bullfights, I mean in Spain or Mexico? They say they are terribly thrilling, but terribly cruel. I mean about the horses. You know what they do, don’t you?”
“No. I never heard of them.”
“Well, they bring out three or four old horses into the ring and men with spears spear the bull and get him mad at the horses and he goes after them and kills them and the blood makes him mad at everybody and then the man comes out and kills him. They call them toreadors.”
“Who?”
“The man that fights the bull. Haven’t you ever heard Carmen, I mean the opera? There’s a toreador in that. He sings a song; it goes, ‘Toreador, en garde.’ That’s the French. It’s a French opera. Carmen is the girl; she works in a cigarette factory. First she falls in love with a soldier and then this toreador wins her away from him, but the soldier kills himself and her.
“I haven’t heard it for years; I like to go to ones I haven’t heard so much. We’ve got a simply gorgeous opera company in Chicago. Everybody says it’s better than the Metropolitan. And Rosa Raisa is the greatest dramatic soprano I ever heard. She’s Ruffo’s wife. No, I guess she’s Rimini’s. Anyway, they’re both baritones.”
Again Mr. Halpern intervened and Harry took on Miss Coakley for another round.
“Mr. Walters and I were just—Don’t you like Nassau better than—I mean for climate—and the different colors of the water—and it’s ideal bathing, hardly any surf—of course lots of people prefer heavy surf—but for people like me who can’t—and I think the crowd that goes there—and the tennis. Then there’s that lovely garden, with the orchestra.
“Three of us girls—I think it was four winters—it was three winters ago. One night we went—it’s the Holy Rollers—honestly they do the craziest—a man told us they were just—but I couldn’t believe it, they were so—I think—Have you ever been there, Mr. Burton?”
“No.”
“We went by land to—and then from Miami—when you wake up—it’s the most beautiful—with the sun just rising over the islands—it’s simply heavenly—it’s just—Well, you have no idea!”
“Yes, I have,” said Harry to himself, and aloud: “Grace, I’d like a highball. I had a tough day.”
“The days are getting shorter,” said his hostess.
“I imagine every day must be pretty hard for you men in the Street,” said Miss Rell.
“I’m not in any street,” said Harry. “Not even a path.”
“I know how secretive you Wall Street men are,” said Miss Rell, “but I wonder if you would do me a favor. Just before I left home, I heard Father talking about some stock that I think he said he had a tip on—he’s got a lot of influential friends that tell him things like that, but of course nobody like you who is right in Wall Street. Now it would be perfectly wonderful if you would tell me whether this stock is any good or not and then when I go home, I can tell Father what you said and who you are and he’ll think his child isn’t so dumb after all. Will you?”
“What’s the stock?”
“Isn’t it marvelous that I remember the name of it? It’s General Motors.”
“General Motors! Well, listen, if you’ll keep this under your hat—”
“Oh, that reminds me, I saw your Mayor Jimmy Walker in the parade today and I told Grace I thought he was the only man in the world who could wear a high hat without looking silly. Do you know him? I’ll bet he’s fascinating to know. He’s cute! I wish we had a cute mayor. I suppose you New Yorkers must think our town is a regular wild West show. It really isn’t as bad as all that.
“Lou—that’s my brother—he said the funniest thing the night before I came away. No, it was Wednesday night he said it and I didn’t leave till Friday noon on the Century. What was I saying? Oh, yes, Father and Lou and I were waiting for dinner—you know we live on the North Side, just a block south of the park—and anyway there were some noises out on the street that sounded just like pistol-shots and Father hurried to the window and looked out and announced that it was just backfire from a truck.
“Then Lou said, ‘Well, I’m glad they’re beginning to defend themselves.’ He meant the trucks were firing back at whoever was shooting at them. Or would it be whomever? I never can get who and whom straight. But Lou is awfully witty; I mean he really is. He has had two or three things in College Humor. What was your college?”
“The Electoral College.”
“Oh, you’re an engineer! And what are you doing on Wall Street? I suppose you gave up your profession ‘for gold.’ You ought to be ashamed of yourself! You might be accomplishing big things like building bridges. Which reminds me, do you play bridge?”
“Yes.”
“You ought to, honestly. I’m not very good, but it’s lots of fun. I belong to a club and we just have a circus. The other girls used to laugh at me, I was so dumb, but this last winter I got good; I mean really not bad at all. And then, just when I was doing so well, they decided to play this contract and I can’t get it at all. You don’t bid anything but slams and I just can’t do that. I simply haven’t the nerve.”
“Have you ever been up with Lindbergh?” asked Harry.
“Yes. I’m not joking. I really mean it. It was while he was in Washington. My father arranged it through Congressman Burleigh. That’s the Burleigh Paint Company in South Chicago. Mr. Burleigh is a congressman and one of Father’s closest friends. It was the most thrilling experience I ever had in my life. And I wasn’t frightened at all, only a little bit, like when you go in swimming and dive for the first time.”
“Can you dive?”
“You ought
