— And I suppose some day I may even learn the name of your lovely Mrs, whatever that ridiculous name you made up…
— No no diCephalis, here let me stop and introduce you, this figure going out the gate ahead of us, you can see he’s accident prone go slowly, thinks of himself as a vehicle sometimes and he might try to…
— That? she swept the wheel in a turn, — that’s her husband?
— That’s Dan diCephalis our ah, our resident psycho…
— It’s quite an assortment you work with isn’t it, except for your Miss, Mrs, turned out by Patou even three or four seasons old she’s quite elegant… and they turned into open highway. — What’s someone like her doing there.
— Same thing someone like I is. Am. Like I am is, there, something like I am is, is that what I said?
— Will you please take your feet down?
— These? Pardon?
— Those terrible sneakers, will you get them off the dashboard.
— When suddenly I saw your foot, know that poem?
— Isn’t she a little young?
— For what, teaching?
— For you.
— Listen Stella what… he was getting knees around, getting an arm over the seat, — what did you come there for anyhow, you don’t like my friends, you don’t like my sneakers, you…
— I told you.
— I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you got into furs and dark glasses to come out and see your aunts, what are the shades for anyhow? Day’s so gray I can hardly see without them.
Without turning from the road she raised a glove from the wheel to lift the glasses away, and drop them back. — Now do you?
— But my, good lord what…
— Norman.
— Gave you that? He must have hit you with, must have hit you with a hammer what happened, he got a can of blue paint and a can of orange paint and…
— Please Jack, stop it. It wasn’t nice and it, it certainly wasn’t funny.
He sagged somewhat, dug out a cigarette and came forward, trying buttons, — there…
— Do we need the radio?
— Looking for the God damned lighter.
— It’s that one, at the end. Can you turn that down a little?
— Little, thought it was Moonglow but it’s that damned Tchaikowski thing… he settled back in smoke as they veered to an open lane, waved to the glimpse of age clinging to the wheel of the car they passed.
— Jack I wish you could just…
— Wait let’s hear the commercial, thought it was Tchaikowski but it’s that God damned…
— I thought maybe you could…
— Well what the hell did happen if that’s what you came out for, not the wasn’t funny part the wasn’t nice…
— Look in my bag.
— Never liked to look in ladies’ bags, found something once in one that, while I think of it, he rummaged among bills, — if you hate my sneakers so much you might lend me ten toward a pair of…
— Take it.
— Only find twenties here, and ones…
— Well take one of the…
— Good, good lord is this, this what you were talking about?
She glanced down. — Yes.
— Right into the eye of the hurricane, almost see out the other end can’t you.
— Jack please, you don’t have to start…
— Ought to borrow it to show to our principal, he’s a great one for proscribed openings. Got both of them here in fact haven’t you, takes me back to my boyhood in Burmesquik…
— Jack that’s enough, will you just put it…
— Well what do you want me to say, that she has nice eyes? that I’d like an introduction? I mean is it somebody I’m supposed to know or is she just…
— No but I thought, it just looks like his secretary, I’ve only seen her once but…
— Norman’s passing these out, you mean?
— No please stop being, it was in his shirt pocket. I was getting laundry together and…
— And what, you mean you think the lucky man here is…
— Jack please stop it, if you can’t simply…
— Doesn’t really look like Norman’s ah, knee though, does it, of course you’d know better than…
— I said please! The car swerved as she reached to thrust it into her bag.
— All right but I don’t follow your story, he said rearranging knees, — you found it in his pocket and he hit you? I mean why didn’t you hit him.
A horn sounded and she looked up to the mirror and slowed to the right, and a horn sounded. — Well you know him, she said quietly, — can’t you imagine?
— Not because I know him though Stella, he turned to open the vent window and drop out his cigarette, — but I know you.
— Jack if you’re going to start…
— Because I know what you said to him when you found it. You just moved in and finished the job didn’t you, couldn’t have done it better if you’d sat down with the girl there and planned it.
— Jack I don’t want to hear…
— I know damned well you don’t, last twist of the knife and he’s out of business for good, why the hell did you ever marry him Stella.
Her gloved hand came up to press the glasses closer and they veered out, passing cars. — Have you got a cigarette?
He came up with one and lit it for her with a match, shook the pack and crumpled it. — Why.
— When you and I were, when you started behaving just the way you are now and I started seeing him he sat down one night and told me he’d added up what he’d spent so far taking me out. It came to ninety-four dollars and a half, and he wanted to know if I was serious before he went on. Does that answer you?
— Poor bastard… he slumped further beside the glass, — you know, I believe that part Stella… and his knees came up again.
— Jack can’t you settle down, it’s like driving with a ten-year-old.
— Just these damned little expensive foreign cars, must mean the piano roll business is still pretty good though.
— I think business is but the rest of it’s quite confused apparently, taxes and the shares in Father’s estate. And didn’t he give you some when you left?
— Shares? Gave me five, mustering out pay, and I just… he broke off, glancing up at her and trying to wedge an arm behind the head rest, — for whatever they’re worth, what the hell are they worth?
— I don’t know, I don’t think even Norman knows really.
— He must have a nice wad of them put away himself.
— Twenty-three I think, but my aunts and uncle have something like twenty-seven.
— But with what you come into from your father…
— Probably not more than twenty-five Norman says, when the estate taxes are paid.
— Well, twenty-five and what did you say he had? twenty-three? Makes forty-eight, I don’t see what you’re…
— Assuming we keep them together, she said without looking up from the road, where the banks had narrowed and the screen of trees thinned before the rise of buildings. — And you still have your, five you said?
— Had them in a shirt drawer, he said, and then he half turned to look at her for a moment before he sank back beside the glass again as the screen of trees lost to concrete before a fall of birds from the bridge overhead, thinned to anchor fence penning a battered fleet of empty cabs, finally he turned to her bag between them on the seat and opened it, bent over it, a hand in it.
— Please don’t start that again.
— Start what. I was looking for a cigarette… he came up with a package and a bill he twisted to get into a pocket before he lit the cigarette and opened the bag to put the package back in. — Start this again, you mean?
She glanced down. — Yes, will you put it…
— Off with that weary coronet and show, the hairy diadem which on you doth grow. Now off with… The car slowed sharply and he threw up his arm. — Just a little poetry, John Donne the prominent churchman little tribute to his…