“They want it! They like it! Not only that, they want another, as soon as I can get it out. Think of it!” Blackie removed his pipe from between his teeth and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “I’m thinkin’,” he said. “Anything t’ oblige you. When you’re through shovin’ that paper into my face would you mind explainin’ who wants what?” “Oh, you’re so stupid! So slow! Can’t you see that I’ve written a real live book, and had it accepted, and that I am going to write another if I have to run away from a whole regiment of husbands to do it properly? Blackie, can’t you see what it means! Oh, Blackie, I know I’m maudlin in my joy, but forgive me. It’s been so long since I’ve had the taste of it.” “Well, take a good chew while you got th’chance an’ don’t count too high on this first book business. I knew a guy who wrote a book once, an’ he planned to take a trip to Europe on it, and build a house when he got home, and maybe a yacht or so, if he wasn’t too rushed. Sa-a-ay, girl, w’en he got through gettin’ those royalties for that book they’d dwindled down to fresh wall paper for the dinin’-room, and a new gas stove for his wife, an’ not enough left over to take a trolley trip to Oshkosh on. Don’t count too high.” “I’m not counting at all, Blackie, and you can’t discourage me.” “Don’t want to. But I’d hate to see you come down with a thud.” Suddenly he sat up and a grin overspread his thin face. “Tell you what we’ll do, girlie. We’ll celebrate. Maybe it’ll be the last time. Let’s pretend this is six months ago, and everything’s serene. You get your bonnet. I’ll get the machine. It’s too hot to work, anyway. We’ll take a spin out to somewhere that’s cool, and we’ll order cold things to eat, and cold things to drink, and you can talk about yourself till you’re tired. You’ll have to take it out on somebody, an’ it might as well be me.” Five minutes later, with my hat in my hand, I turned to find Peter at my elbow. “Want to talk to you,” he said, frowning. “Sorry, Peter, but I can’t stop. Won’t it do later?” “No. Got an assignment? I’ll go with you.” “N-not exactly, Peter. The truth is, Blackie has taken pity on me and has promised to take me out for a spin, just to cool off. It has been so insufferably hot.” Peter turned away. “Count me in on that,” he said, over his shoulder. “But I can’t, Peter,” I cried. “It isn’t my party. And anyway—” Peter turned around, and there was an ugly glow in his eyes and an ugly look on his face, and a little red ridge that I had not noticed before seemed to burn itself across his forehead. “And anyway, you don’t want me, eh? Well, I’m going. I’m not going to have my wife chasing all over the country with strange men. Remember, you’re not the giddy grass widdy you used to be. You can take me, or stay at home, understand?”