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By Root 10491 0

just like himself. And maybe they had their problems, too. Fellows and girls when they went together always had that one problem. If they really felt about each other, they wanted to go the limit, and then there was the girl holding back because she was afraid, or thought that it was wrong, or if they did jazz, there was that worrying about getting knocked up, or else there was worrying over how they could get alone and not be seen and spoiling it by hurrying up so no one might catch them in the park or a hallway. Jesus Christ, life was one god-damn trial and tribulation, and love made it more of a trial and a tribulation. He wondered how many fellows there were in Chicago at this very minute who were in the same pickle as he was, with girls they’d knocked up. And yet, no matter if there were thousands of them, that didn’t help him. Misery loves company, but what the hell good does company do?

“Bill, I want you to promise me now that you’re not going to worry,” she said, observing the set expression on his face.

“I’m not worrying.”

“You are, too. You’ve furrowed up your face, and I can tell that you are.”

He forced a smile as they arose. They proceeded southward along Stony Island, and Studs looked at the many strolling people, asking himself how many of them were better off than he was. He took a covert glance at Catherine. She seemed pretty enough. And she was showing him that she had guts. It was something to have guts.

But he wished, Jesus Christ, he wished for something, some-thing!

IV

In the hallway, she was very troubled and worried, and she looked up at him with eyes of desire and anxiety.

“Darling, we’re always going to be together,” she said.

He nodded, kissed her.

“And we’re not going to worry over this thing, either.”

He nodded again, pleased with the sudden thought that this was a fight where he would have to overcome obstacles. But the idea of fighting and overcoming obstacles was one thing, and doing it was another, and tomorrow morning he had to start the doing. He’d realized all along that some day they would just stop being engaged, and marry, but now, with Catherine in his arms kissing him as if each kiss were their last one, he began to realize that he’d been kind of glad to have the marriage in the future. And it wasn’t any longer. If it only could be put off a little, but it couldn’t. He was in all the way up to his neck.

“We needn’t worry, Bill, we’re going to get along, aren’t we?” Catherine said wistfully, relaxing in his arms and patting his cheek.

He shook his head, agreeing.

“I know that as long as I’m with you I won’t have to worry because I can depend on you,” she said.

He kissed her. Their eyes met in helplessness, and Studs knew that there was nothing more for either of them to say. “What time will you be over in the morning?”

“What time do you want me to?”

“Let’s go to eleven o’clock mass.”

“I’d rather go to a low mass.”

“But it would give you more sleep.”

“I’d rather go to a low mass,” he sulked.

“All right, little boy,” she said with a smile. “You’ll be over for ten o’clock mass?... No, I tell you, you come over and we’ll have breakfast together. Come at nine o’clock.”

“All right,” he said, kissing her again.

He watched her disappear up the stairway within the inner hall doorway. He took the same path home that he always took after leaving her. Walking, he suddenly realized that they would have to start out on her money. He was going to her a pauper without a pot to... Jesus Christ! Getting married on her money, after he had knocked her up, and having wasted his own like an out-and-out chump. And why, oh, Jesus, why did all these things have to come when he was losing his health and all jammed up? Now, as he had never realized it before, he could see just how important money was, and he told himself, yes, sir, your pocketbook is your best friend. Now it meant so many important things, and to think of all the dough he had pooped away since he had started working back in 1919.

He tried to see himself coming through and busting out on top, and it was like eating something