"It's musical ornamentation," he explained after a moment's earnest concentration. "Friend of mine, Sam Cooper, said--" He collapsed and stared at her with his mouth open. "Yes, Lefty? What did Sam Cooper say?" "Gabby?" he faltered. "Right here." "But I thought you--I thought I--" Lefty Leftwich fled back to Brockton. "W-Where've I been?" "Right here." "Gabby...." "Yes, darling?" "I think I'm going to be sick." She smacked her palm against his nose and thrust back determinedly. He grunted in pain. "Still want to be sick?" she asked after a minute. "No," he answered in patient agony. She released his nose. "Hello, Jake," she said. He began to cry. She soothed him. "It's all right, baby. Don't cry. What's the matter, darling? You don't have to cry." "It's the first time you ever called me Jake," he said in a muffled voice. "Is that why you're crying, sweetheart?" "It's like we're finally meeting for the first time.... No ... I--I'm mixed up again. Like last week. What's today?" "Sunday. New Year's day." "What time is it?" "Six o'clock." "Morning?" "Evening." He digested that information, thought intensely and groaned. "I've lost the whole damned New Year's Eve. I'm blacked out again from ten o'clock last night. What filth am I going to start remembering now?" "Don't be frightened," Gabby said briskly. "I was with you from midnight on." "You were?" She nodded. "Did I do anything bad?" She shook her head. "Where did we meet?" "You called for me here." "And you went out with me? After that fight? After the lousy things I said to--" She put her hand over his mouth. "Don't talk about that. We both apologized and made up." "Honest?" "You know I never lie." "Did.... Did we run into Knott?" "No." "I could swear something about Knott is flitting around in the blackout. I--" "Your imagination," Gabby said. "On your feet, Jake. Time to get dressed and have something to eat. We've got to catch the nine o'clock plane." "What plane?" "Don't you remember anything from last night? We made up our minds to fly down to Mexico today." "Mexico? What for?" "My divorce. Your wedding." Gabby looked at him sternly. "If you're pretending amnesia to get out of it, Jake, it won't work. I've got witnesses." "I think," he said feebly, "I'd better have some coffee." He stood up, still dizzy and blurry. Gabby tossed him clean shorts. He put them on and followed her to the kitchen where he drank coffee humbly and in a hushed voice reported what he remembered of his New Year's Eve ... the trip to Islip, his insane practical jokes ... he even blurted out all he remembered of his date with Olga Bleutcher, the body incarnate. Gabby was annoyed, the more so because his memory died at the point where the date with Olga began. She covered her chagrin with a laugh. "The pigeons were a nuisance," she said, "But after the mothballs and the gelatine I got off lucky. You're a Monte Cristo, Jake."