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“You’re a pretty good dancer,” she said.

“You’re keen too,” he said, working against her. “Shake that thing,” he added.

“That’s not... nice,” she said, blushing as her eyes dropped.

“Come on, sister!” he said, aggressively.

She smiled, and let herself go against him.

“Do you come up here often?” she asked, hanging on his arm, and walking off the floor at the conclusion of the dance.

“I haven’t got time for it,” he said.

“Umm. Swell people. I suppose you go to the South Shore Country Club.”

“No. There’s too many pigs, and no-do’s around here.”

“Am I to take that as a compliment?”

“You’re the real stuff, girlie.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Meaning which?” he said, looking unflinchingly into her dark eyes.

“Maybe I’m not.”

“I can take care of that.”

“You’re not confident, are you?”

“I pick my women, baby.”

“Just like that! You’re not what they call an... ego-tistical.”

“Listen, want to go to a party?”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“How come?”

“Why, I don’t even know you!”

“Come on, never mind that. This damn joint is too crowded. There’s too many no-do’s here. Come on, baby, and can the stalling. You don’t want to be wasting your time with these imitation Valentinos up here.”

“But what will my girl friend say?”

“Hell, she can find some guy to look after her, and if she can’t, that is just tough.”

“But...”

“Listen, Irene. You know you want to come, and you’re just playing around before you say yes. I don’t like that stuff.”

“You’re a frank fellow, I see,” she said.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing her arm. They walked down the stairs to the cloak rooms.

III

The party was held in a suite of three rooms at a disreputable hotel on Grand Boulevard in the black belt.

“Here, Pat, have a drink of my stuff,” Red Kelly said to Carrigan, as they stood in a corner of the crowded room.

After drinking, Pat Carrigan coughed and grimaced. He smiled that broad, happy, good-natured, chubby-faced smile of his.

“Ah, good stuff,” he said, rubbing his belly.

“Damn tootin’.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“Never mind. It’s good stuff.”

A jazz record was put on the portable Victrola.

“Here now, Red. Have some of mine,” young Carrigan said.

“Don’t care if I do.”

Pat handed Red the bottle, and Red took a big drink. Pat tried to take as big a drink, but couldn’t. He put the bottle aside, coughing and sneezing.

“You’ll learn how to take it in time,” Red said.

“Say, I had too much already. Jesus, I’m drunk as a loon. I’m drunk, Kelly. Drunk,” Carrigan said.

“Sure, I know how it is.”

“But why shouldn’t I be drunk? Ain’t it New Year’s Eve?” argued Carrigan.

“Don’t crap me now.”

“Hey, Leach, commere.”

“What the hell you want, you drunken Irishman?” Shorty Leach sourly asked.

“What day is it?”

“What’s this, a joke?”

“I’m trying to tell Kelly here what day it is, and he won’t believe that it’s New Year’s Eve.”

“Jesus, that’s tough tiddy. Give me a drink,” said Shorty.

“Sure. Happy New Year,” said Carrigan, handing him the bottle.

IV

“Don’t say that I’m not a lady, you bastard,” the exotic dark girl said.

“But say, kid. The ladies do it, and so do the birds. Don’t you know that song, I love the birds, and the bees, and the trees, because they all do it too,” Wils Gillen said.

“Well, don’t say that I ain’t a lady,” she said.

“You know what I think you are?” said Wils.

“What?” she muttered, slobbering over the small glass of gin she had in her hand.

“I think you’re a man.”

“Look at me, then!” she said, laughing raucously.

“I’m from Missouri, kid. Show me!”

“Goddamn you, I will!” she said.

She ripped off her clothes.

“Now, you sonofabitch, do you believe me?” she shouted.

“Yeah, I guess you are.”

“Now, you goddamn dirty skunk, show me that you’re a man.”

“I always aim to please.”

“Come on over here, and show me. I had plenty, and I’m particular. Particular, I said. You got to prove it to me,” she said, looking him over with a sneer.

“You got the right telephone number this time, girlie.”

V

“Hey, Swede, don’t. Lay off that bitch. She’s got