She stood on the step, drawing the fur collar against her lovely chin. She smiled amiably at each of them in turn, and they smiled back at her.
“You look fine,” said Dil.
“Don’t waste time flattering me,” she said, “let’s get a taxi.”
They got a taxi and piled into it and drove to the Shawmut. The hotel lobby was crowded, and so was the grill-room, but they found a booth. The band was playing a fox-trot and people were dancing in the railed-off center of the floor. A lot of the tables had toy balloons tethered to them, and some of the couples carried balloons with them as they danced.
“Same old crowd,” said Mae. “There’s grandpa and his cutie. He’s got a new pair of spats.”
“Would you like a little fox-trot?” said Dil.
“I don’t mind a little one. Let’s go.”
Bill ordered the supper while they danced. Dil was talking to Mae, and she seemed to be listening with great amusement. They took a few turns and came back.
“I’ve been telling Mae about Pete,” said Bill.
“He sounds too fascinating,” said Mae. “Tell me some more about him. Does he live with you?”
“Sure, he lives with us,” said Dil. “Regular old crab. Got the best head in the class.”
“He’s a real woman-hater. Won’t have a thing to do with them. My sister tried to get him to come to a dinner-dance once, and he turned her down flat.”
“What does he say about women?” said Mae. She leaned forward on her elbows. Her eyes were very bright. Then she took out a little mirror and began titivating her eyelashes and nose with a tiny finger-tip. She smoothed the powder round her nostrils.
“Oh, he just says ‘women don’t interest me.’”
“Well, I’d like a drink,” said Mae.
“I’ve got a flask,” said Dil, “and there’s some White Rock coming.”
“Is my nose all right?”
She snapped shut the lid of the little box and looked brightly from one to the other. Then she opened it again and, tilting her head to make sure that her hair was not disarrayed, she patted a golden wave or two lightly with the palm of her hand.
“Perfect,” said Bill.
“Absolutely perfect,” said Dil.
The music stopped, the couples drifted back to their booths with trailing and bobbing balloons, and in the distressing silence the waiter opened the White Rock. As soon as he had gone away Dil took out his flask and poured from it into the three glasses. The saxophone began again. Mae subtly swayed her shoulders, narrowing her eyes a little.
“Mm—what I mean!” she said, lifting her glass.
“Well, here’s to poor old Pete,” said Dil.
“Oh, yes, tell me some more about Pete. Is he good-looking?”
“He’s red-haired and blue-eyed,” said Bill. “Red curly hair. He’s not what you’d call handsome exactly—do you think so, Dil?—but he’s awfully nice-looking. He’s terribly innocent.”
“This is a nice drink,” said Mae. “I needed it badly. Gosh, it was hot in that dressing-room! I thought I would die. I thought I would faint or something. I tell you what, boys, I’m going to bed early tonight.”
“Oh, don’t say that. The night’s still young.”
“I’m going to bed at one o’clock on the dot. You see if I don’t. Just the same, I’d like to do something exciting, if I weren’t so tired.”
“Are you feeling tired? This drink will fix you up. We were feeling pretty shot ourselves. We’ve been working since three this afternoon. But I’m feeling a lot better already. All you need is a little jazz.”
“What would you like to do, Mae?” asked Dil. “How about riding out to the Bell-in-Hand and having a dance? Some of the fellows are going to be out there.”
Mae considered, her pretty head on one side. She watched the couples dance by, watching with a sort of melancholy, bored expression. She rested her chin on knitted fingers.
“I want to do something exciting,” she said. “Gosh, how I hate this sleepy town.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” said Bill.
“Sleepy Hollow,” said Dil.
“What else does Pete say about women, Dil? I bet some girl turned him down. That’s the way it usually is.”
“No, nothing like that. It’s just the way he is. He’s a real woman-hater. We tried to make him come and meet you, but he wouldn’t. He said women didn’t interest him.”
Mae smiled at Dil in a queer sleepy sort of way. Her eyes were very blue and very deep.
“He didn’t want to meet me?” she said.
“It would have been the same with anybody,” Bill said, a little anxiously. “He never goes out anywhere. Never goes to a show.”
“What’s he doing now?”
“Now? This minute? Probably gone to bed.”
“Well, let’s go and wake him up.”
Dil laughed. Bill poured out the rest of the White Rock. The glasses were empty.
“By gosh, that would be amusing,” said Dil. “I wonder what old Pete would do if we came in and woke him.”
“Throw a fit or something,” said Bill.
“I’d like to meet a real woman-hater. I’ve never met one. Does he bite and scratch?”
Dil smoothed his black hair; he was very urbane.
“Oh, no. He’s very polite. But the only things that interest him are surgery and hunting. He went big-game hunting in Africa just after he got out of college. Shot a couple of lions, and nearly got killed by a lioness.”
“My, my, just think of that. Where was this—in California?”
They laughed, and drank.
“No movie stuff,” said Dil. “Honest-to-God Africa. He’s got the gun to prove it.”
“Well, now, isn’t he the little hero,” said Mae primly. “Let’s go and wake him up and talk to him. I’d like to talk to him. We can go there, can’t we?”
“Sure, we can go there.”
“That’s a swell idea,” said Bill. “By gosh, it’ll be fun to see Pete in a situation like that! By gosh, I wonder what he’ll do. It wouldn’t surprise me if he shot you or jumped out of the window.”
“No; do you know what I think he’ll do? He’ll just take one look at Mae and go to sleep again. That’s what he’ll do. He’ll open one eye like a sick hen and then shut it again and tell us to go to hell.”
“What will you bet? I’ll bet I can make him like me,” said Mae. “I’ll bet you a dinner. Give me a cigarette, that’s a good boy.”
“All right, I’ll bet you can’t.”
“Come on, then, let’s go.”
“Wait till I pay the bill. You go ahead and get a taxi.”
Mae and Bill got up and moved through the returning dancers, and a moment later Dil followed them. They walked down the steps from the lobby under the lighted glass canopy and got into a scarlet taxi. The stars were out. Mae sat between them and held their arms, and laughed.
“This is great,” she said.
“It’s only just around the corner,” Bill murmured. “Here it is.”
“What—already? We could have walked.”
“Well, you’ll have walk enough going up the stairs.”
“All right, you’ll have to push me.”
They put their hands against the small of her back and pushed her, all three of them laughing. Bill took out his key and opened the door. The apartment was dark, and he felt along the wall and switched on the light. Everything was exactly as they had left it—the glasses still on the floor, the window open, and the cushion just where Pete had flung it. A purple galleon was embroidered on the cushion, and there was a rip at one corner.
“He’s gone to bed,” said Dil. “Just what I said.”
“Where does he sleep? In here?”
Mae went to one of the bedroom doors, on tiptoe.
“No, here.”
“Let me see him.… You leave this to me!”