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The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [263]

By Root 10594 0
their sides. He saw a baby-faced girl, giving the fellow a come-on glance, and he thought that the lad was the kind to knock a girl’s heart six ways from Sunday, even if he had a flunkey’s job and was all dressed up in a monkey suit. He felt small, all right, looking at the fellow. And as he walked by him, he looked at the slender silken legs of a passing girl. He almost collided with a tall and haughty blond, and, mumbling an apology, he noticed that she had a long, grayish coat which made her look like the works. He turned to watch her disappear with her fellow, and to note the way she wriggled from behind. What did fellows have to do to make keen and classy broads like that one go nuts over them? Some guys did, too, and such broads would eat dirt for them. He had never had one gone like that on him, though, and he wished that he had. Catherine, he kind of felt that she would go nuts over him if he gave her the chance, only she wasn’t the type, and he felt kind of sorry for her. She just lacked the kind of class that such girls had.

He stared quickly from face to face as he walked, liking the sight of so many people, of so many girls. He realized how he had come to feel so differently just by turning off of Dear-born and coming onto Randolph, where there were lights and people, and where there were so many girls to look at, many of them walking as if they were movie actresses, hot babies, as he could see by just glancing at them as they passed by. On Dearborn, he had felt out of the picture and all alone, and now he didn’t. And there was something, mmm! He looked after the girl, a cold but desirable blond. He recalled Slug Mason’s philosophy, that all broads could be made by the right fellow, but that the right fellow always treated them rough. He spotted a pock-faced girl, very stout, who hung on the arm of a thin, weasel-faced lad, and he figured that maybe Catherine was not so bad. She was a little bit plump, but so had Lucy been, so were lots of girls, and she had some stuff, and had a nice handful to her. Sometimes when she was dressed up, she looked plenty worth the getting. Gazing around, seeing so many couples, he was anxious to meet her, to walk back this street with her, and be in this same picture so that other fellows could see him, see him as part of this picture of fellows going out with their girls.

He walked the last block between Wabash and Michigan impatiently, but again the doubt about proposing came to his mind. He determined that he would pop it. He decided that he would wait a little longer, get the lay of the land better, and then if he was absolutely sure that she would say yes, buy the ring, and have it to slip on her finger then and there. And if he did pop it, would he or wouldn’t he be putting his foot in for something that he wasn’t bargaining for? Often when he was with her, he didn’t have anything to talk about, and he had a queer tense feeling. It made him uncertain whether or not he was a sucker, wasting his time taking her around. And then, with business rotten for the old man, even though he had dough saved in the bank, mightn’t he wait until the hard times were over and he was more sure of being able to support her? Christ sake, he didn’t know what the hell to do, and there she was standing on the steps of the public library, and now she saw him and was smiling, and he was goddamn glad to see her.

II

Returning Catherine’s pleasing white-toothed smile, Studs realized, as if it were a discovery, that she wasn’t hard to look at. She was short and fleshy, but not so fat. Not seeing her these last few days, he had gotten to thinking that she was fatter than she really was. She had thin lips, a stubby nose, black eyes, a round, full-cheeked face, and she was wearing a new black coat with fur-trimmed collar and cuffs. He knew that he was damn glad to see her, and he was sure, from the way she had pursed her lips up at him and her smile, that she was glad to be seeing him.

“Well, stranger, how are you after your long trip?”

“Pretty good.”

“You must be tired after the train ride.”

“Not

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