U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [556]
"Eveline, you look tired."
"I think I'm coming down with the grippe." She talked fast. "I just came in to see a friendly face. I have an ap--495-pointment to see J. W. at eleven fifteen. . . . Do you think he'l come across? If I can raise ten thousand the Shuberts wil raise the rest. But it's got to be right away because somebody has some kind of an option on it that expires tomorrow. . .
. Oh, I'm so sick of not doing any-thing. . . . Holden has wonderful ideas about the production and he's letting me do the sets and costumes . . . and if some Broadway producer does it he'l ruin it. . . . Dick, I know it's a great play." Dick frowned. "This isn't such a very good time . . . we're al pretty preoccupied this morning."
"Wel , I won't disturb you any more." They were standing in the window. "How can you stand those riveters going al the time?"
"Why, Eveline, those riveters are music to our ears, they make us sing like canaries in a thunderstorm. They mean business. . . . If J. W. takes my advice that's where we're going to have our new office."
"Wel , goodby." She put her hand in its worn grey glove in his. "I know you'l put in a word for me. . . . You're the whitehaired boy around here."
She went out leaving a little frail familiar scent of co-logne and furs in the office. Dick walked up and down in front of his desk frowning. He suddenly felt nervous and jumpy. He decided he'd run out to get a breath of air and maybe a smal drink before he went to lunch. "If anybody cal s," he said to his secretary, "tel them to cal me after three. I have an errand and then an appointment with Mr. Moorehouse."
In the elevator there was J. W. just going down in a new overcoat with a big furcol ar and a new grey fedora.
"Dick," he said, "if you're late at the Plaza I'l wring your neck. . . . You're slated for the blind bowboy."
"To shoot Bingham in the heart?" Dick's ears hummed as the elevator dropped. J. W. nodded, smiling. "By the way, in strict confidence
-496-what do you think of Mrs. Johnson's project to put on a play? . . . Of course she's a very lovely woman. . . . She used to be a great friend of Eleanor's. . . . Dick, my boy, why don't you marry?"
"Who? Eveline? She's married already."
"I was thinking aloud, don't pay any attention to it." They came out of the elevator and walked across the Grand Central together in the swirl of the noontime crowd. The sun had come out and sent long slanting mote-fil ed rays across under the great blue ceiling overhead.
"But what do you think of this play venture? You see I'm pretty wel tied up in the market. . .
. I suppose I could borrow the money at the bank."
"The theater's always risky," said Dick. "Eveline's a great girl and al that and ful of talent but I don't know how much of a head she has for business. Putting on a play's a risky business."
"I like to help old friends out . . . but it occurred to me that if the Shuberts thought there was money in it they'd be putting it in themselves. . . . Of course Mrs. Johnson's very artistic."
"Of course," said Dick.
At twelve thirty he was waiting for J. W. in the lobby of the Plaza chewing sensen to take the smel of the three whiskeys he'd swal owed at Tony's on the way up off his breath. At twelve fortyfive he saw coming from the check-room J. W.'s large pearshaped figure with the paleblue eyes and the sleek strawgrey hair, and beside him a tal gaunt man with untidy white hair curling into ducktails over his ears. The minute they stepped into the lobby Dick began to hear a rasping opinionated boom from the tal man.
". . . never one of those who could hold