“All right. I’ll marry him.” Flo laughed suddenly and picked up the phone. “I’ll tell him now.” Just then it rang, and she picked up the receiver. “Hello. Just a minute, I’ll see.” Covering the transmitter with her hand, she whispered to Gin, “It’s for you; it sounds like Harvey. What’ll I say?” “Let me talk to him.... Hello!” “Hello, Gin. Say, listen....” “How are you, Harvey?” “I’m all right. Listen, can’t we talk this thing over? I miss you a lot. Let’s have dinner tonight.” Suddenly, happily indifferent to all quarrels that had any connection with Santa Fé, she answered, “All right. Come along at six-thirty.” “Well,” Flo cried, “When did all this happen?” “Just now.” She handed the phone over. “Now call your Russell.” She went into the kitchen and started to clean up, throwing away the lemon-peels. She sang loudly and happily, until her roommate called through the door in protest. “Sing me a song of a lad that is gone: Say, could that lad be I?...” On a sudden impulse, she shouted to Flo, “When you get married would you want this apartment?” “Me? I’m not really getting married. Did you take me seriously?” “Oh, I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d like to keep it.” She emptied a plate into the garbage pail, clattering it cheerfully. “Russell can’t get married yet anyway: he hasn’t enough money. Why do you ask? Are you thinking of moving anywhere?” “Not at all,” Gin said, and threw the dish-towel against its hook on the wall. “Not in the _least_.” CHAPTER TWELVE The car couldn’t quite make the hill. Blake shifted gears carelessly, so that they made a terrifying noise and his teeth hurt. Then he settled down again behind the wheel and resumed his gloomy thoughts. The little twists and turns in the road had become second nature to him and nothing interfered with his meditations. He was occupied with a premature regret for a beautiful day which was really just started. For him it was over. He had hurried with his breakfast, very cheerful and making plans in his mind to go right down to the plaza afterwards and see what was going on in town. Probably there would be nothing, but at least he could spend a pleasant morning talking to someone, lounging in front of the Capitol Drug Store and having a Coca-Cola now and then. Besides, who knows? Someone new and exciting might happen along. Then Mary spoiled it all. He could not blame her as much as he wished, for after all it was simply another morning and she would have been sure to act the same way some other day if she had postponed it this time. It was just one of those conversations. And yet once again he was overwhelmed with that sense of the world outside of him, expecting him to rise up and act in some preposterous worthwhile manner. The world of the adult was perilously close. He hated to be reminded of it.