He was very tall, thin and distinguished-looking. He had a close-clipped moustache, a square jaw and the hair on each side of his head was white.
He sat on a high stool at the ‘Roney Plaza’ bar, a cigarette between his thin lips and a glass of Scotch-and-soda at his elbow. Every now and then he would glance up and catch his reflection in the bright mirror behind the bar. He would look at himself and adjust the wings of his evening dress-tie with his well-shaped fingers, and once he adjusted the set of his coat.
People kept coming up to the bar, but he ignored them. Sometimes they glanced at him curiously, especially the women, but no one spoke to him. He had been in the bar several times during the week, and the habitues began to wonder who he was.
Manuel, the barman, had tried to discover who he was without success. Not that he wasn’t talkative, but that he steered the conversation away from any personal topic.
During a lull, Manuel came down the long bar towards him. He began polishing glasses. “Not much about tonight,” he said casually.
The tall, thin man agreed. “Why do you think that is?” he asked.
Manuel shrugged. “You can’t tell these days,” he said; “there is too much entertainment going on. People get too much amusement. They don’t know where to go next.”
“Personally, I find things very dull.”
Manuel looked at him sharply. “It depends,” he said. “It depends on what you want. Now, there’s a fine show at the ‘Hot-Spot’. You ought to see that. I went last night. Mind you, I’ve seen a lot of that kind of stuff, but this is the tops. You can have my word for it, you didn’t ought to miss it.”
The tall, thin man tapped the ash of his cigarette. “I’ve seen it,” he said briefly. “It’s not bad. No, I’d say it’s not bad at all.”
Manuel selected another glass. “That dame with the chest,” he said, rolling his eyes a little. “You know the one I mean.”
“Did you find her amusing?”
“Amusing?” Manuel paused. “That ain’t quite the word, is it? Amusing? No, I wouldn’t call it that. That’s the kind of a dame that spoils married life. Comes a trifle flat to get home after seeing a dame like that.”
The tall, thin man winced. He finished up his whisky and ordered another.
Manuel went on: “When you see a hot number like her, it makes you wonder what sort of a life she leads off the stage. Maybe she’s married. She might have a flock of kids. She might sleep with anyone. You don’t know, do you?”
“It’s a great mistake to enquire into that kind of a person’s life. They’re making money because the people who pay to see them regard them as something totally unlike themselves. They are the escape valve of the public.”
Manuel nodded. “Yeah, that’s right, but I don’t kid myself.” He had to go away to serve two elderly women, and when he got back again he said: “There’s a good fight on tonight. I can let you have a ticket if you fancied it.”
The tall, thin man shook his head. “Not tonight. I’m waiting for someone. Maybe some other night. I like a good fight.”
“Yeah?” Manuel’s face brightened. “So do I. I like a good fight too. There has been some pretty bum shows recently. Did you see McCoy give up in the sixth?”
“Yes.”
“Why did he do that, do you think?”
“They say he was scared, but it wasn’t that. He had something on his mind. It must be tough going into the ring with something bad on your mind. The public don’t care. All they want to see is a fight. It doesn’t matter how much trouble you’ve got, you’ve got to leave it outside. Well, I guess McCoy took it in with him.”
Manuel regarded the tall, thin man thoughtfully. “You reckon that’s what the trouble was, do you?” he said.
“Of course. It couldn’t have been anything else. McCoy isn’t yellow. He wasn’t getting the breaks.”
Manuel, who didn’t miss anything, said: “You’ll pardon me, but are you waiting for a lady?”
The tall, thin man played with his glass, his eyes went frosty. “Curiosity?” he said.
Manuel put down the glass he was polishing. He jerked his head. “Some lady’s lookin’ for someone,” he said. “I thought maybe it was you.”
The tall, thin man looked over his shoulder. “You’re quite remarkable,” he said, and beckoned to the girl who stood just inside the doorway.
She came across slowly. Manuel watched her, without appearing to. During his stay at the ‘Roney Plaza’ he had seen so many women that his standard of what was good had become exceedingly high. This girl was interesting. She was interesting in a ripe sort of a way. She had a lazy, sensuous walk, and her big blue eyes looked sleepy. Her mouth was wide and very red. She wore a black dress that emphasized her breasts and hips without being tight on her body. Manuel thought she looked like a very beautiful genteel whore.
She said to the tall, thin man, “Hello, Harry.”
He got off the stool and touched her fingers. There was a tense eager tightening of his face muscles.
“Come and have a drink,” he said. “Do you like these stools, or would you rather sit at a table?”
She gave her answer by climbing up and perching herself on the stool.
He said, “You’re looking very, very beautiful.”
“Every time we meet you tell me that. Is it for something to say, or do you feel so strongly about it?”
He climbed up on the stool beside her. “I want to talk to you.”
“Can’t I have something to drink? Is it so urgent that I can’t be asked what I should like?”
He looked at her, his eyes angry. “I’m sorry.” He nodded to Manuel, who came down to them, then he said, “What are you drinking?”
She turned her attention to Manuel. First, she gave him a very bright smile. It was a smile that unsettled Manuel’s calm. He felt an urge to reach forward and pull her across the bar towards him. This urge so startled him that he became very confused. He stood looking at her uneasily.
“What shall I drink?” she asked him. “Something that will set fire to my blood. Suggest something.”
Manuel turned to his bottles. “I have something for you,” he said. “You will not be disappointed.”
The tall, thin man she had called Harry said, “I wish you wouldn’t, it doesn’t suit you.”
“That’s only your opinion,” the girl said. She had very fine hands, slim and white and very beautiful. “We are starting well tonight. Soon we shall be quarrelling, and then we shall go away from each other. I think I shall like that.”
Harry offered her a cigarette. “You mustn’t talk like that. I don’t know what’s come over you lately. Have a cigarette. Look, Manuel is bringing you your drink.”
She took the cigarette and smiled very brightly again at Manuel as he put the glass down.
Manuel said, “You will like it. I have every confidence.”
She said: “I am sure I will. Look, I’ll taste it before I smoke.” She raised her hand to stop Harry from striking a match. When she had tasted the drink, she put it down with a little shudder. “God!” she said.
Manuel looked at her closely and then looked at Harry. “You like it?” he asked anxiously.
She said: “It’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. I wouldn’t say I liked it, but it’s what I want.”
Manuel went away, his face a little sullen. He wasn’t sure what she meant.
Harry said softly, “You’ve hurt him.”
“Why not? Why shouldn’t I hurt someone for a change? You don’t mind when I am hurt, why should you bother about a barman?”
He moved uneasily. “I wish you wouldn’t go on like this,” he said. “Really, it doesn’t do any good.”
“Very well, I won’t. Let us change the subject. Let us talk about something else. I’ll be very good. I promise I won’t be difficult any more. There, now I’ve promised.”
There was a pause, then she went on: “This morning I was very extravagant. I went out and bought a hat. It cost a lot of money, but I felt that I had to have something new. It made me feel very happy for a few minutes.”
“I’m glad. I wish you’d buy yourself what you want. You know you can have what you want.”
She shook her head. “No, no, I can’t. You think that your money will give me everything I want, but it can’t.”
He bit his lips, annoyed at giving her the obvious opening. She went on before he could say anything. “Your money can’t make me Mrs. Harry Garner, can it? By the way, how is Mrs. Harry Garner, and how is your daughter?”
Harry finished up his whisky. “Didn’t we agree not to talk about that side of my life?” he said, trying to speak gently.
“Oh yes, I know. We agreed not to talk about them, but sometimes I get very curious. You can’t blame me, can you? I mean they are so important in your life, aren’t they? They are much more important to you than I am, aren’t they?”
“You know they’re not. Look, we’re getting on the wrong topics tonight. Let’s go somewhere and have dinner. Perhaps you’d like to see the show at the ‘Hot-Spot’.”
She laughed. “I’ll tell you something. I saw you take the Mrs. Harry Garner there the night before last. I couldn’t go after that. It wouldn’t be right.”
He clenched his fist. “You can be very hateful sometimes,” he said, and she could see that for the first time he was really angry.
“No, not hateful. I wouldn’t like you to call me that. Not after the nights I’ve given up to you. You can’t say that. It’s because it’s the truth and it annoys you. Be honest, isn’t that right?”
He drew a deep breath. “All right, it does more than annoy me, it hurts. For God’s sake, can’t we stop this awful bickering?”
“I’m sorry.” She finished the drink Manuel had given her. “Tell him to give me another. It’s terribly, terribly dangerous stuff, but I don’t care.”
Harry signed to Manuel, who smiled. If she wanted another, it must be all right.
They didn’t say anything to each other until Manuel had brought the drinks, and then, when he had gone away, Harry said: “He’s a genius for finding new drinks. Will you thank him very nicely when we go?”
She sipped the drink, pulling a little face. “Yes, I will thank him. I’ll be very, very nice to everyone you like, including your wife and your daughter. There, I can’t do more than that, can I?”
He felt the evening couldn’t go on any longer like this. It was absurd that she should dominate him. He was determined to get things back to normal.
“Listen,” he said, “are you going to say bitchy things all the evening?”
Her eyes opened a trifle. “Am I?”
“It’s no use going on like this. Tell me. Get it off your mind, then perhaps we can forget about it.”
“Forget about what? Mrs. Harry Garner and Miss Garner? They’d be very difficult to forget.”
“Four months ago you said they didn’t matter,” Harry said, determined to keep his temper. “You said you understood my position and you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind; I know you didn’t. Why this sudden change?”
She didn’t like this direct approach. “Harry, do you think if I fell in love with a woman I should be any happier?”
“No, you can’t side-track like that. You don’t mean anything by that. You’re just gaining time.”
“No, honestly. I’ve wondered. Women can be so much more understanding.”
Three people came up to the bar and ordered drinks. They stood close to Harry and the girl. One of them was a tall, flat-chested girl with a serious expression on her face. She wore heavy, horn-rim glasses. The other two were middle-aged men.
One of the men said, “Manuel, you’re looking pretty good tonight.”
Manuel pushed a bottle of Canadian Rye across the polished wood. He said: “Yes, sir, I’m feeling pretty good. You don’t look so bad yourself.”
The man turned to the serious-looking girl. “I like this place. They give you the bottle and let you get tight, fast or slow, just as you feel. There’s no waiting to be served.”
The serious-looking girl said: “That’s fine, because I want to get tight very fast tonight.”
Harry said: “Let’s go. I can’t talk to you here. Let’s go back to the apartment.”
She shook her head. “No, not tonight. I’m feeling nervy. We should only quarrel. Not tonight.”
He hid his disappointment. “Well, let’s go, anyway. I’ll see you home.”
He gave Manuel some money and she smiled at him. “Your drink’s been a big success. Mr. Garner says you’re a genius.”
Manuel showed his surprise. He said good night rather stiffly. He felt somehow that she had insulted him.
The two of them walked out into the bustle of the street. He noticed that she was just a little drunk; it gave him hope.
“Let me come back with you,” he said, “I have a lot to say to you.”
She shook her head. “Not tonight.” She sounded very final.
He raised his hand to signal a cab.
“No,” she said, “I’m much too tired. We’ll walk.”