Somebody said they knew him intimately and he was a big queen.
"No-no-no," Lennox said. "He'sa whore. Thinksee writes clever with his fancy filth from's stinkin' sewer mind. People like me don't think hesso clever. Plain people like Lefty Leftwich witha feet onna ground. Want heart and soul and meaning. Y'unnastan? Heart. And. Soul. And. Meaning ... not garbage outa fancy barrel. Faker sells hisself out f'ra buck and sells us out too, Y'unnastan?"
No one was paying any attention. Lennox went on raging to the bored backs. "I know'm. Me. Plain old Lefty Leftwich from Brockton, Mass. Know allabout'm from way back. He could write from's guts ifee wasn't so busy pimpin' f'pennies." Lennox began to shake his fists in fury. "Lousy sewer Lennox! Fancy filthy fraud! Sells hisself downa river soee can live fancy'n'elegant like a duke or a marquiss. Betrayal. Why don't somebody honest tell'at corpse where to get off? Why don't someone kill'm an' make room frhonest writers?"
He elbowed his way from the bar, left The Fantasy and continued down Third Avenue. Below 42nd Street he made up his mind and turned east. He came to a dim stationery and candy store with K N O T T spread across the window in an arc of brass letters. He entered and staggered against the marble soda fountain, peering blearily at the faded woman who was just closing up.
"Wanna write a letter," he said. "Spehshul d'liv'ry letter. Wanna best paper'n'envelope inna house. Pen too. Teach'm a lesson."
The faded woman looked at Lennox, recognized him, and without a word produced a sheet of blue paper, a blue envelope and a cheap fountain pen which she filled. She took a three cent stamp and a special delivery stamp out of a cash box and affixed them to the envelope. Lennox picked up the pen, paper and envelope, placed five dollars on the counter and staggered out.
He entered the Baroque through the side door, stared around wildly and located an empty chair at the table behind the telephone booth. He swam to the chair through the smoke and the noise and sat down. With his breast pocket handkerchief he mopped the table dry. He looked up. Seated across the table from him was a blonde who appeared to be a Swede farm girl. She was looking at him.
"Hiya Goldilocks," he said.
"Hiya," she said. "Long time no see."
"Jus' got in from Brockton."