American fiction -- 20th century; Chicago (Ill.) -- Fiction; Journalists -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction
“Besides—” he said. “I didn’t tell you about my new home, did I? It’s on
the north side.”
“Where? I live on the north side too. Think of us two living in the
midst of Wilson Avenue respectability. It’s very amusing.... Is it the
dancing or the cocktail that gives us such an appetite?”
“Or the fact that we had no dinner, perhaps? Just off Wilson Avenue,
near the L station. A dingy bachelor apartment.”
“It can’t be worse than mine. I fear I have no talent for home-making.”
“There’s a dance hall just across the street,” he said. “That’s why I
left home tonight.”
“Why let that annoy you? Why not dance there?”
“Yes, why not? Will you go and dance with me?”
Her eyes lit up. “When?”
“Any time. I imagine it’s always in full blast. Tonight?”
“Yes!” She clapped her hands. “Now!”
“Our supper....”
“What of it? There are other places to eat, a dog-wagon will do. Come!”
She rose, her eyes dancing.
He rose too, throwing his napkin on the table. “Never put off till
tomorrow—”
He helped her on with her coat, and when the surprised waiter came with
the wine, he demanded his check.
“Yes, sir. And the wine, sir?”
“Give it to me!” said the girl.
He handed it over with a dignified gesture.
“You should have borrowed a corkscrew, too!” said Felix, as they left
the room.
“I didn’t want the wine,” she said. “I just wanted to walk out with it
under my arm. I thought you might object.”
“Again you misjudge me,” said Felix. “You can do all the foolish things
you want to—but don’t waste your time doing them to see whether I care.
I don’t care. You can stand on your head here on Michigan Avenue if you
like. I sha’n’t mind.”
“Shouldn’t you?” she said. “Well, then, if I may do as I please, then I
sha’n’t do anything very outrageous. Would it be very outrageous to
visit your apartment in the dead of night with this wine, before we go
to the dance across the street? Will you be put out?”
“Probably,” said Felix. “But there are other places to live. There is
always the park bench, when you have had me turned out of all my
apartments.”
“Oh, my enthusiasm for you won’t last that long. Never fear!... Have we
enough money to taxi up there?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s take the L. It’s quicker. Do you like me, Felix?”
“I sha’n’t tell you!”
They climbed the elevated steps, and waited for a train. A weary
policeman waited there, the only other person on the platform.
“How do you suppose this adventure is going to end?” she asked, as they
walked.
“Who knows?” he answered. “That’s the fun of an adventure—one never does
know.”
She sighed. “If I thought you thought you knew—! But you don’t, do you?”
“And I don’t care.”
“Amazing youth! I can’t tease you, can I? So I won’t try any more....
Don’t you think I ought to go home and go to bed?”
“I’m sure you ought.”
“If we danced all night—”
“I think I will kiss you, right now. The idea has just occurred to me.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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