"Hey!" Larry exclaimed, suddenly alarmed. Allison had taken hold of the doorknob; she pushed the door open.
A burst of light struck them, light and sound. The murmur of voices. Past a heavy curtain people moved, an immense room of people. Men and women in evening dress, bending over long tables and counters.
"Oh, oh," Larry muttered. "Now you've got us into it; this is no place for us."
Three tough-looking gorillas come strolling over, their hands in their pockets. "Okay, mister; let's go."
Larry started out. "That's fine by me. I'm an easy-going person."
"Nonsense." Allison caught hold of his arm, her eyes glittering with excitement. "I always wanted to visit a gambling-place. Look at all the tables! What are they doing? What's that over there?"
"For Lord's sake," Larry gasped desperately. "Let's get out of here. These people don't know us."
"You bet we don't," one of the three hulking bruisers rasped. He nodded to his companions. "Here we go." They grabbed hold of Larry and propelled him toward the door.
Allison blinked. "What are you doing to him? You stop that!" She concentrated, her lips moving. "Let me -- let me talk to Connie."
The three bruisers froze. They turned toward her slowly. "To who? Who did you say, lady?"
Allison smiled up at them. "To Connie -- I think. Isn't that what I said? Connie. Where is he?" She looked around. "Is that him over there?"
A small dapper man at one of the tables turned resentfully at his name, his face twisting with annoyance.
"Let it go, lady," one of the bruisers said quickly. "Don't bother Connie; he don't like to be bothered." He closed the door, pushing Larry and Allison past the curtain, into the big room. "You go and play. Enjoy yourselves; have a good time."
Larry looked down at the girl beside him. He shook his head weakly. "I could sure use a drink -a stiff one."
"All right," Allison said happily, her eyes fastened on the roulette table. "You go have your drink. I'm going to start playing!"
After a couple of good stiff scotch-and-waters, Larry slid off the stool and wandered away from the bar, over toward the roulette table in the center of the room.
After a couple of good stiff scotch-and-waters, Larry slid off the stool and wandered away from the bar, over toward the roulette table in the center of the room.
"What does this one mean?" Allison was asking the croupier, holding up a blue chip. In front of her was an immense stack of chips -- all colors. Everyone was murmuring and talking and looking at her.
Larry made his way over to her. "How are you getting along? Lost your dowry yet?"
"Not yet. According to this man, I'm ahead."
"He should know," Larry sighed wearily; "he's in the business."
"Do you want to play, too?" Allison asked, accepting an armload of chips. "You can have these. I've got more."
"I see that. But -- no, thanks; it's out of my line. Come on." Larry led her away from the table. "I think the time has come for you and me to have a little chat. Over in the corner where it's quiet."
"A chat?"
"I got to thinking about it; this thing has gone far enough."
Allison trailed after him. Larry strode over to the side of the room. In a huge fireplace, a roaring fire blazed. Larry threw himself down in a deep chair, pointing to the chair next to it. "Sit," Larry said.
Allison sat down, crossing her legs and smoothing down her skirt. She leaned back, sighed. "Isn't this nice? The fire and everything? Just what I always imagined." She closed her eyes dreamily.
Larry took his cigarettes out and lit up slowly, deep in thought. "Now look here, Miss Holmes --"
"Allison. After all, we're going to be married."
"Allison, then. Look here, Allison, this whole thing is absurd. While I was at the bar I got to thinking it over. It isn't right, this crazy theory of yours."
"Why not?" Her voice was sleepy, far-off.
Larry gestured angrily. "I'll tell you why not. You claim I'm only partly real. Isn't that right? You're the only one who's completely real."
Allison nodded. "That's right."
"But look! I don't know about all these other people --" Larry waved at them deprecatingly. "Maybe you're right about them. Maybe they are only phantoms. But not me! You can't say I'm just a phantom." He banged his fist against the arm of the chair. "See? You call that just partly real?"
"The chair's only partly real, too."
Larry groaned. "Damn it. I've been in this world twenty-five years, and I just met you a few hours ago. Am I supposed to believe I'm not really alive? Not really -- not really me? That I'm only a sort of -a hunk of scenery in your world? Part of the fixtures?"
"Larry, darling. You have your own world. We each have our own world. But this one happens to be mine, and you're in it for me." Allison opened her large blue eyes. "In your real world I may exist a little for you, too. All our worlds overlap, darling; don't you see? You exist for me in my world. Probably I exist for you in yours." She smiled. The Great Designer has to be economical -- like all good artists. Many of the worlds are similar, almost the same. But each of them belongs to only one person."
"And this one is yours." Larry let his breath out with a sigh. "Okay, baby. You have your mind made up; I'll play along with you -- for a while, at least. I'll string along." He contemplated the girl leaning back in the deep chair next to him. "You know, you're not bad-looking, not bad at all."
"Thank you."
"Yeah, I'll bite. For a while, at least. Maybe we are meant for each other. But you've got to calm down a little; you try your luck too hard. If you're going to be around me, you better take it a little easier."
"What do you mean, Larry?"
"All this. This place. What if the cops come? Gambling. Running around." Larry gazed off into the distance. "No, this isn't right. This isn't the kind of life I've got pictured. You know what I see in my mind's eye?" Larry's face lit up with wistful pleasure. "I see a little house, baby. Out in the country. Way out. The farm country. Flat fields. Maybe Kansas. Colorado. A little cabin. With a well. And cows."
Allison frowned. "Oh?"
Allison frowned. "Oh?"
Allison yawned. Abruptly she got to her feet, picking up her purse. "I think it's time we ran along."
Larry got up slowly. "Yeah, I guess it is."
"Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. I want to get started early." Allison made her way through the people, toward the door. "First of all, I think we should begin looking for --"
Larry stopped her. "Your chips."
"What?"
"Your chips. Turn them in."
"What for?"
"For money -- I think they call it now."
"Oh, bother." Allison turned to a heavy-set man sitting at the black-jack table. "Here!" She dumped the chips in the man's lap. "You take them. All right, Larry. Let's go!"
The cab pulled up in front of Larry's apartment.
"Is this where you live?" Allison asked, gazing up at the building. "It's not very modern, is it?"
"No." Larry pushed the door open. "And the plumbing isn't very good, either. But what the hell."
"Larry?" Allison stopped him as he started to get out.
"Yes?"
"You won't forget about tomorrow, will you?"
"Tomorrow?"
"We have so much to do. I want you to be up bright and early, ready to go places. So we can get things done."
"How about six o'clock in the evening? Is that early enough?" Larry yawned. It was late, and cold.