— That's why I like her, she's part woman, came a tittering asthmatic voice; and someone else was whistling slightly delayed accompaniment to a stretch of Handel's Water Music. The door opened, and she raised her head in hopeful anxiety, still unaware of how he would appear, the writer whom she had invited, and as afraid that he would not; and she lowered her eyes in disappointed relief, for the man who came in was carrying a baby, and immediately met by the girl with the bandaged wrists. — What did you bring it for? she greeted him, then turned to say, — This is my husband. He's late because he's been tight-rope walking. He has one set up in the apartment and he says he can't practice when I'm around and I'm around most of the time. .
In the middle of the room someone greeted the boy who had been looking for razor blades in the medicine cabinet with, — Charles Dickens, my God, they told me you'd gotten a job as publicity agent for the Hiroshima tourist bureau, Come see the Atom City and all that kind of thing. .
The kitten tore at the arm of the couch. Esther caught it, and drew it to her, Ellery's voice still the clearest in the room. He was talking to the blonde a few feet away. — Hollywood's through, honey. Why go way the hell out there when TV's right here in town. What do you think, Benny? Don't you like her for a spot in Lives of the Saints when it goes on video. .?
Esther realized that all this time the quiet seated presence beside her had been eating. He followed a stuffed egg with a small hot frankfurter, then a fresh carrot. — I beg your pardon, she said. He made a sound, eating. — Are you a friend of…
— Hors d'oeuvres. All I ever get, hors d'oeuvres. I keep thinking Benny will take me somewhere where we'll eat, an invitation to dinner somewheres, but all I get is cocktail parties, all we do is drink, all over town.
— Are you in television too?
— No, God help me. Benny and me went to school together. He coughed, and took another small hot frankfurter, as though annoyed at this interruption in his meal. — Benny and me went to school together, he repeated. — See this suit? This is Benny's. He gave it to me.
— It's a lovely suit, Esther said, looking at the gray flannel sleeve which came halfway down the man's forearm. — A very nice gift.
— Now it's too conservative for Benny, he can't wear things like this any more he says. Honest, you can't imagine a different guy than Benny when we went to school together, quiet and real serious. He was going to do great things then, he was going to design the most beautiful bridges you ever saw, and look at him now. Even a year ago I saw him and he was real, like the guy I used to go to school with. He isn't real any more. The tray was abruptly lifted away, and he grabbed two frankfurters and a stuffed egg. — Look at them, he said, watching casual hands pick up stuffed eggs, frankfurters, an occasional carrot. — You'd think they were hungry, the way they eat. Look at that woman with the white fingernails, does she look hungry? His meal was done, and he turned to Esther for the first time. — Do you know anything about player pianos?
— I'm afraid not, I've never really been interested. .
— I've written a history of the player piano. A whole history. It took me two years, it's got everything in it. What's the matter with people. What do they want to read about, sex all the time? Politics? Why, did you know, he went on in a spicy tone, — the Crown Princess of Sweden, the Queen of Norway, the Sultan of Johore, all of them had piano players? And Anna Held, Julia Marlowe, President McKinley, they had player pianos. And Pope Pius X, the Wright brothers, the ships of the Russian navy. .
— If you want something to eat, Esther interrupted, — I'm sure that out in the kitchen. .
— Anything, he said, but his eagerness was weary, for just then art had taken appetite's place. — Some day I'm going to have it printed myself, on Japanese onion-skin, bound in vellum… I don't know. Am I the only one that.'s hungry? Doesn't anyone else ever eat in New York? He stopped to pick some egg off the flannel sleeve. — White vellum with gold stamping. .
— I'm sure that in the kitchen…
— Well, here you are! Benny stood over them, unsteadily, with a dripping glass in each hand. — Are you all right? He leaned over and spoke to Esther in a low tone, — Are you keeping my friend here supplied? He always needs a drink, poor fellow. We went to school together. I've had to take him to every party in town the last two weeks, I don't know what he does with himself when I'm up at the studio.
Esther felt that she had regained her strength, and stood as the arm beside her reached dutifully up for the glass. She did not see Ellery and the blonde, and started toward Don Bildow when Herschel took her arm. — Baby there is a kitchen here isn't there? Because we must have just a little but-ter. . and baby, has Rudy come yet? You know Rudy don't you? You must, he designed this new Doukhobor dress, the one that comes off with a touch, isn't that fright-fully Tolstoy? And now he's designing sports clothes for nuns. Why, before he's through he'll end up in the Church himself! Isn't that too camp? Why even Agnes says. .
— Bathysiderodromophobia. And that's only one of his troubles.
— But why does simply everyone join the Roman Church? When there are so many other divinely amusing religions.around.
— I think sun worship would be the most divinely inspiring thing, why just imagine everyone here running around without a stitch on…
— I'd like to start right now. .
— I want a new messiah. .
— Baby we all do…
— That tall stooped one in the open green shirt over there, I'd follow him any-where. .
— And it wouldn't do you a bit of good, said Agnes Deigh, leaning forward with a cigarette in her mouth, looking for a light. — He'd probably break every single little bone in your body.
— How fer-wocious! Agnes introduce me, promise.
Of the three lights proffered, Agnes Deigh leaned over one and then sat back, lowering her cigarette. — Darling he's not any stronger than you are.
— But he looks so m-timate.
— He does, Agnes said, looking across the room. — That's because he has myopia.
— Agnes darling you sound bit-ter. What's he to Hecuba, baby?
— Oh God, let's not talk about it. I spent most of a year listening to his troubles with his wife, with his childhood, with religion, with his work, honestly, nursing him. .
— Agnes, how angrwy you are!
She had, indeed, got a stern look on her face which none of them had ever seen; but as quick as it had come, it softened to one of weary disappointment. Then she said thoughtfully, not looking at anyone, — The people who demand pity of you hate you afterward for giving it, They always hate you afterward. She watched him plod across the room as though in deep snow.
The front door was opened and closed three times in quick succession, the first draft catching the flower of Agnes Deigh's patronage to detach a frayed petal and waft it across the room. — Buster! — Sonny! — But how did you get here? The second was Stanley; and the third a dark-skinned man about five feet tall in a snappy gray sharkskin suit, who looked round cheerfully, raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and accepted a drink. (He was, in fact, the Argentine trade commissioner, at the wrong party.)
Maude sat with her eyes closed, moving her head slightly in the hand of the man in uniform. — I just don't do happy things any more, she was saying. — I guess because it's easier not to, because when you do, and then remember them, it's much worse than if you never did them, it's much better if you don't have happy things to remember, and then you don't remember them and get sad because you're not doing them any more, it's easier just not to have anything to remember. . He leaned forward and blew softly into her hair.