“My dear man, I wasn’t here. I was in Paris, I suppose.”
“She didn’t tell me you were in Paris. Are you a screwball or were you really in Paris?”
“I was in Paris.… After all, stranger things have happened.”
“Then you’re fancy?”
“What do you mean, fancy?”
“Fancy is what fancy does.”
“Well, if you care to be mysterious it’s your right, but the word ‘fancy’ doesn’t mean a thing to me.”
“Hey,” said Lou to Pacifica, “is she tryin’ to be highhat with me?”
“No, she’s very intelligent. She’s not like you.”
For the first time Mrs. Copperfield sensed that Pacifica was proud of her. She realized that all this time Pacifica had been waiting to show her to her friends and she was not so sure that she was pleased. Lou turned to Mrs. Copperfield again.
“I’m sorry, Duchess. Pacifica says you got something on the ball and that I shouldn’t address myself to you.”
Mrs. Copperfield was bored with Lou, so she jumped down and went and stood between Toby and Pacifica. Toby was talking in a thick low voice with Pacifica.
“I’m tellin’ you if she gets a singer in here and paints the place up a little she could make a lot of money on the joint. Everybody knows it’s a good place to hit the hay in, but there ain’t no music. You’re here, you got a lot of friends, you got a way with you.…”
“Toby, I don’t want to start with music and a lot of friends. I’m quiet.…”
“Yeah, you’re quiet. This week you’re quiet and maybe next week you won’t want to be so quiet.”
“I don’t change my mind like that, Toby. I have a boy friend. I don’t want to live in here much longer, you know.”
“But you’re livin’ here now.”
“Yes.”
“Well, you want to make a little money. I’m tellin’ you, with a little money we could fix up the joint.”
“But why must I be here?”
“Because you got contacts.”
“I never saw such a man. Talking all the time about business.”
“You’re not such a bad one for business yourself. I saw you hustlin’ up a drink for that pal of yours. You get your cut, don’t you?”
Pacifica kicked Toby with her heel.
“Listen, Pacifica, I like to have fun. But I can’t see somethin’ that could be coinin’ the money takin’ in petty cash.”
“Stop being so busy.” Pacifica pushed his hat off his head. He realized there was nothing to be done and sighed.
“How’s Emma?” he asked her listlessly.
“Emma? I have not seen her since that night on the boat. She looked so gorgeous dressed up like a sailor.”
“Women look fantastic dressed up in men’s clothes,” put in Mrs. Copperfield with enthusiasm.
“That’s what you think,” said Toby. “They look better to me in ruffles.”
“She was only talking for a minute they look nice,” said Pacifica.
“Not for me,” said Toby.
“All right, Toby, maybe not for you, but for her they look nice that way.”
“I still think I’m right. It ain’t only a matter of opinion.”
“Well, you can’t prove it mathematically,” said Mrs. Copperfield. Toby looked at her with no interest in his face.
“What about Emma?” said Pacifica. “You are really not interested finally in somebody?”
“You asked me to talk about somethin’ besides business, so I asked you about Emma, just to show how sociable I am. We both know her. We were on a party together. Ain’t that the right thing to do? How’s Emma, how’s your momma and poppa. That’s the kind of talk you like. Next I tell you how my family is gettin’ along and maybe I bring in another friend who we both forgot we knew, and then we say prices are goin’ up and comes the revolution and we all eat strawberries. Prices are goin’ up fast and that’s why I wanted you to cash in on this joint.”
“My God!” said Pacifica, “my life is hard enough and I am all alone, but I can still enjoy myself like a young girl. You, you are an old man.”
“Your life don’t have to be hard, Pacifica.”
“Well, your life is still very hard and you are always trying to make it easy. That’s the hardest part even of your life.”
“I’m just waitin’ to get a break. With my ideas and a break my life can be easy overnight.”
“And then what will you do?”
“Keep it that way or maybe make it even easier. I’ll be plenty busy.”
“You will never have any time for anything.”
“What’s a guy like me want time for — plantin’ tulips?”
“You don’t enjoy to talk to me, Toby.”
“Sure. You’re friendly and cute and you got a good brain aside from a few phony ideas.”
“And what about me? Am I friendly and cute too?” asked Mrs. Copperfield.
“Sure. You’re all friendly and cute.”
“Copperfield, I think we have just been insulted,” said Pacifica, drawing herself up.
Mrs. Copperfield started to march out of the room in mock anger, but Pacifica was already thinking of something else and Mrs. Copperfield found herself to be in the ridiculous position of the performer who is suddenly without an audience. She came back to the bar.
“Listen,” said Pacifica, “go upstairs and knock on Mrs. Quill’s door. Tell her that Mr. Toby wants to meet her very much. Don’t say Pacifica sent you. She will know this anyway and it will be easier for her if you don’t say it. She will love to come down. That I know like if she was my mother.”
“Oh, I’d love to, Pacifica,” said Mrs. Copperfield, running out of the room.
When Mrs. Copperfield arrived in Mrs. Quill’s room, Mrs. Quill was busy cleaning the top drawer of her dresser. It was very quiet in her room and very hot.
“I never have the heart to throw these things away,” said Mrs. Quill, turning around and patting her hair. “I suppose you’ve met half of Colon,” she said sadly, studying Mrs. Copperfield’s flushed face.
“No, I haven’t, but would you care to come down and meet Mr. Toby?”
“Who is Mr. Toby, dear?”
“Oh, please come, please come just for me.”
“I will, dear, if you’ll sit down and wait while I change into something better.”
Mrs. Copperfield sat down. Her head was spinning. Mrs. Quill pulled out a long black silk dress from her closet. She drew it over her head and then selected some strings of black beads from her jewel-box, and a cameo pin. She powdered her face carefully and stuck several more hairpins into her hair.
“I’m not going to bother to take a bath,” she said when she had finished. “Now, do you really think that I should meet this Mr. Toby, or do you think perhaps another night would be better?”
Mrs. Copperfield took Mrs. Quill’s hand and pulled her out of the room. Mrs. Quill’s entrance into the barroom was gracious and extremely formal. She was already using the hurt that her beau had caused her to good advantage.
“Now, dear,” she said quietly to Mrs. Copperfield, “tell me which one is Mr. Toby.”
“That one over there, sitting next to Pacifica,” Mrs. Copperfield said hesitantly. She was fearful lest Mrs. Quill should find him completely unattractive and leave the room.
“I see. The stout gentleman.”
“Do you hate fat people?”
“I don’t judge people by their bodies. Even when I was a young girl I liked men for their minds. Now that I’m middle-aged I see how right I was.”
“I’ve always been a body-worshipper,” said Mrs. Copperfield, “but that doesn’t mean that I fall in love with people who have beautiful bodies. Some of the bodies I’ve liked have been awful. Come, let’s go over to Mr. Toby.”