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got three other songs。 They make Gottschalk's stuff look sick。 All I
want's a chance。 What I want you to do is accompaniment。 On the
stage； see？ Grand piano。 And a swell set。 I haven't quite made up my
mind to it。 But a kind of an army camp room； see？ And maybe you
dressed as Liberty。 Anyway； it'll be new； and a knockout。 If only we
can get away with the voice thing。 Say； if Eddie Foy； all those years
never had a〃
The band opened with a terrifying clash of cymbal and thump of drum。
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〃Back at the end of my first turn；〃 he said as he Red。 Terry followed his
lithe； electric figure。 She turned to meet the heavy…lidded gaze of the
woman seated opposite。 She relaxed； then； and sat back with a little sigh。
〃Well！ If he talks that way to the managers I don't see〃
Ruby laughed a mirthless little laugh。 〃Talk doesn't get it over with
the managers； honey。 You've got to deliver。〃
〃Well； but he'sthat song is a good one。 I don't say it's as good as he
thinks it is； but it's good。〃
〃Yes；〃 admitted the woman； grudgingly； 〃it's good。〃
〃Well； then？〃
The woman beckoned a waiter； he nodded and vanished； and
reappeared with a glass that was twin to the one she had just emptied。
〃Does he look like he knew French？ Or could make a rhyme？〃
〃But didn't he？ Doesn't he？〃
〃The words were written by a little French girl who used to skate
down here last winter； when the craze was on。 She was stuck on a
Chicago kid who went over to fly for the French。〃
〃But the music？〃
〃There was a Russian girl who used to dance in the cabaret and she
〃
Terry's head came up with a characteristic little jerk。 〃I don't believe
it！〃
〃Better。〃 She gazed at Terry with the drowsy look that was so
different from the quick； clear glance of the Ruby Watson who used to
dance so nimbly in the old Bijou days。 〃What'd you and your husband
quarrel about； Terry？〃
Terry was furious to feel herself flushing。 〃Oh； nothing。 He justI…
…it was Say； how did you know we'd quarreled？〃
And suddenly all the fat woman's apathy dropped from her like a
garment and some of the old sparkle and animation illumined her heavy
face。 She pushed her glass aside and leaned forward on her folded arms；
so that her face was close to Terry's。
〃Terry Sheehan； I know you've quarreled； and I know just what it was
about。 Oh； I don't mean the very thing it was about； but the kind of thing。
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I'm going to do something for you； Terry； that I wouldn't take the trouble
to do for most women。 But I guess I ain't had all the softness knocked
out of me yet； though it's a wonder。 And I guess I remember too plain the
decent kid you was in the old days。 What was the name of that little
small…time house me and Jim used to play？ Bijou； that's it； Bijou。〃
The band struck up a new tune。 Leon Sammettslim； sleek； lithe in
his evening clothesappeared with a little fair girl in pink chiffon。 The
woman reached across the table and put one pudgy； jeweled hand on
Terry's arm。 〃He'll be through in ten minutes。 Now listen to me。 I left
Jim four years ago； and there hasn't been a minute since then； day or night；
when I wouldn't have crawled back to him on my hands and knees if I
could。 But I couldn't。 He wouldn't have me now。 How could he？
How do I know you've quarreled？ I can see it in your eyes。 They look
just the way mine have felt for four years； that's how。 I met up with this
boy； and there wasn't anybody to do the turn for me that I'm trying to do
for you。 Now get this。 I left Jim because when he ate corn on the cob
he always closed his eyes and it drove me wild。 Don't laugh。〃
〃I'm not laughing；〃 said Terry。
〃Women are like that。 One nightwe was playing Fond du Lac； I
remember just as plainwe was eating supper before the show and Jim
reached for one of those big yellow ears； and buttered and salted it； and me
kind of hanging on to the edge of the table with my nails。 Seemed to me
if he shut his eyes when he put his teeth into that ear of corn I'd scream。
And he did。 And I screamed。 And that's all。〃
Terry sat staring at her with a wide…eyed stare； like a sleepwalker。
Then she wet her lips slowly。 〃But that's almost the very〃
〃Kid； go on back home。 I don't know whether it's too late or not； but
go anyway。 If you've lost him I suppose it ain't any more than you
deserve； but I hope to God you don't get your deserts this time。 He's
almost through。 If he sees you going he can't quit in the middle of his
song to stop you。 He'll know I put you wise； and he'll prob'ly half kill me
for it。 But it's worth it。 You get。〃
And Terrydazed； shaking； but gratefulfled。 Down the noisy aisle；
up the stairs； to the street。 Back to her rooming house。 Out again； with
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her suitcase； and into the right railroad station somehow； at last。 Not
another Wetona train until midnight。 She shrank into a remote corner of
the waiting room and there she huddled until midnight； watching the
entrances like a child who is fearful of ghosts in the night。
The hands of the station clock seemed fixed and immovable。 The
hour between eleven and twelve was endless。 She was on the train。 It
was almost morning。 It was morning。 Dawn was breaking。 She was
home！ She had the house key clutched tightly in her hand long before
she turned Schroeder's corner。 Suppose he had come home！ Suppose
he had jumped a town and come home ahead of his schedule。