“What essential difference is there between a poet, boasting of his reputation, and a workman bragging about the women who have allowed him to molest their bodies?” he asked himself, forcing the question out of the drained limpness of his mind. “The poet has taught better manners to his vanity, with many an inquisitive artifice, while the other man is more natural and clumsy.” Petersen’s voice interrupted the soliloquy. “Come on, have another.” “Make it whiskey this time,” said Carl to the bartender. “I’ll pay for this one, Petersen.” “Keep your money, keep it,” answered Petersen, warmed by his beers to an insistent generosity. “I got plenty of it. But say, I’ll be a little shorter in kale tuhnight when Katie gets through with me. There’s no way of spendin’ money that that dame don’t know, but I guess all women are like that. They make you fly some to get ’em. Gonna meet her at eight tonight.” “Who’s Katie?” asked Carl, drowsily amused after his whiskey. “She’s a little brunette I’m goin’ with. I’m blonde myself so I like ’em dark an’ well-built. Fine-lookin’ girl she is. Some curve! She ain’t a fast dame by no means but I give her money so’s she can look decent. You know the wages they pay at them damn department-stores! I don’t wanna be ashamed of her when I take her out so I get her the best of everythin’--silk stockings, nice hat, swell shoes.” “Don’t she feel kinda small about a man paying for her clothes?” asked Carl, slipping into Petersen’s language. “Well, she said no at first but I told her that she didn’t have to give me nothin’ except what she wanted to,” said Petersen. “I’m a straight guy with women, I am.” “Do you love her?” asked Carl, wondering how Petersen would take the question. He looked at Carl with a heavy disapproval. “Say, cut out the kiddin’,” he answered. “D’ya lo-o-ove her”--he mimicked the words with astonished derision--“none of that soft stuff for me. She’s a good-lookin’, wise girl, and if I don’t see anyone I like better I’ll prob’ly marry her, but she ain’t got no ropes tied to me. You bet not! There’s plenty of fish in the pond, Jack.” “Yes, if you’ve got the right kind of bait,” answered Carl, deliberately falling into the other man’s verbal stride, “but be sure that someone else isn’t fishing for you at the same time. Hooked from above, while not watching, you know.” “You’re a regular kidder, ain’t ya,” said Petersen, who dimly felt that Carl was masking the sly wisdom of sexual pursuits and respected him for it. “But say, Katie’s got a nice friend--Lucy’s her name. She’s a little thin, not much curve to her, but some men like ’em that way. An’ she’s kinda quiet too, don’t talk much, but I don’t care for them when they’re always laughin’ and cuttin’ up. Then they’re usually tryin’ to get on your good side an’ work you for somethin.’ Would ya like to meet this dame? I don’t know just how far she’ll go but she might come across if you work her right.”