Suddenly the truck door was wrenched open and a burly man bawled: "What the hell are you doing in there?" "Listen," Lennox snapped. "We're from the phone company. Why the hell don't you pay your bill?" Gabby burst out laughing. Lennox helped her out of the truck and glared at the astounded driver. "This is your last warning, cheapskate. Next time we take the truck away." They scampered off down the street and flagged a cab. As they got in, Lennox exclaimed: "Jesus! Me mackinaws." "Jesus, me job!" Gabby said. "What about lunch? I loused your steak." "I'll have something sent up." They sat close together in comforting silence all the way to Houseways, Inc. At the office door Lennox took her shoulders in his hands for a moment, then asked: "Forgiven?" Gabby nodded. "See you tonight, please?" "Tonight." "Don't spring another husband." She shook her head. "You'd better divorce him. I've got serious-type intentions." "I can't." "Why not?" "He won't let me. He wants to own me too." "How can he stop you?" "Not now, Jordan. Some other time. But ... I've got problems too." She ran into the office. Lennox stood watching her and grinding his teeth on Audibon's name. Then he looked up and down the street, located a restaurant, went in and bought a lunch and had it sent up to Gabby. "This is Monday," he muttered. "Six more days. Christ, stand by me. Gabrielle, stand by me." He returned to Sabatini's, claimed his overcoats, and went home. Cooper was in the kitchen piling canned goods on the shelves while the Siamese climbed on him and begged shamelessly for food. There was a rigid law in the house that neither man ever questioned the other about his private life, but Cooper's face wore such an expression of blank dismay that Lennox was startled into breaking the rule. "Sam! What's the matter?" Cooper opened his mouth, then closed it. "Where were you last night? Has anything happened? Speak." "I'm famous." "What?" Cooper nodded, "You remember last month Mason wanted a song spot with the dummy? Comedy duet." "Sure. I couldn't come up with a suggestion and you cooked up a tune. 'We're The Most.' So?" "They released it last week. It.... So help me, it's turning into a hit. Suidi took me down for a disc-jockey interview last night." "Suidi? Who he?" "The ambassador's son." "_Le Jazz Hot?_ Goggle-eyed guy?" "That's him. He owns a record company. They make race records mostly, but he took a chance on 'We're The Most' and it.... You should have heard them rave last night." "This is sensational, Sam. Man, this _is_ the Most!" "It's an outrage," Cooper said. He was angry and perplexed. "What's burning you?" "I spend years writing tunes. I drudge like a sincere-type writer. A veritable Irving Beethoven. And what happens? Nothing. But a lousy little novelty I work up in half an hour during rehearsal.... It's a trappisty."