“What’s the matter with it?”
“I don’t know, but a man and a girl came in here and played it about an hour ago, and won three gold awards inside of five minutes. Think of it. Three gold awards, to say nothing of the shower of nickels they dragged out of the machine. Something’s wrong with it.”
“Why,” I said, “what makes you think there’s anything wrong with the machine? You’ve always told me about the people who came in and won—”
“Well,” she snapped, “this is different. I’ve telephoned for the service man to come over. You keep away from it.”
I went back to my seat at the table.
“What is it?” Bertha asked.
“Nothing,” I said, “except that someone will probably deliver my car to me today.”
“Oh, it’s already delivered,” she said. “I forgot to tell you. The attendant at the parking-station said a girl had left a car there for you. It’s an awful-looking jalopy, lover.”
I didn’t say anything.
The waitress brought food and placed it on the table. Somehow I didn’t feel hungry. I kept thinking about the breakfasts on the desert and in Reno.