Norman grinned at the Shroff and the Killer. They grinned back and spontaneously shook hands. "Man!" he chuckled. "That bottle-bit and that mop-mop-massacre. We're a goddam Foreign Legion. Damn if we ain't!" All the men felt better after the scrap, but Gabby was very angry. "Shame on you," she said. "Fighting like that. Hurting people. Making fun of that poor sick girl. You're supposed to be civilized. You're worse than animals." "Honey," Norman said reasonably. "It was self-defense." "No it wasn't, Mr. Norman. It was bad boys on a spree." "We were protecting you, Ma'am," the Killer said. "No you weren't, Mr. Hamburger. You were enjoying yourselves. I thought you were all such nice men. Now I'm ashamed of you. I hate fighting. There's no excuse for fighting ... ever!" "Gabby," Lennox said gently. "Get off the soap-box." She turned on him. "And you started it all, Jordan. Why did you hit that poor blond man?" "He was a fag and he was bothering me." "That's no excuse. He's as sick as that poor naked girl. You've got to feel sorry for homosexuals. You shouldn't hate them. But you do. You like to hate and hurt." "Ah don't blame'm," Norman muttered. "Queens is poison. Make any man want to punch 'em." "You be quiet, Mr. Norman." Norman shut up. "And what about Roy?" Gabby stormed. "I know why you hit him. You hate him. You're jealous and--" "No. I slugged him because he passed a crack at Norman I didn't like." "He doesn't know any better. You have to reason with prejudice, not--" "Well he damn well ought to know better." "Do you think you taught him anything?" "Maybe," the Shroff said unexpectedly. "How?" Gabby demanded. "Chinese people ve'y ole-fashun. We have ve'y ole wise saying...." He paused as though making a translation from the original. "Well?" Lennox asked after a moment. "You've left us hanging, Mr. Fu." The Shroff beamed around. "I fohget," he said. They burst out laughing. They hooted and groaned with laughter as they lurched down the street to the Killer's car. There they parted affectionately from Norman who presented each of them with an engraved card that read: Eugene K. Norman, The Midnight Sun, Technique of the Terpischore, Living is Elation and Elation's Syncopation. "Come to the show Sunday," Lennox called after him. "The Venice Theater at nine o'clock. Ask for Jordan Lennox." He issued the same invitation to the Shroff and the Killer. "What show?" the Shroff asked. "A television show called 'Who He?'" "Who's Jordan Lennox?" the Killer inquired. "Him," Gabby said. "His pen name. A one and a two and a zig-zag-zig." They piled into the car. "Are we through, Jordan? Have we failed?" "You seem pretty cheerful," Lennox laughed. "I am. So are you." "Must be hysteria. I'm so loused up now that I don't give a damn any more." "That's a relief." "Why do you say that?" "You get so oppressive when you're filled with resolve."