“A swell jane,” I said. “She was going to ring me up for a dinner date. Can’t a man step out with a girl friend without having the whole damned office force trying to chisel in on his love life?”
“Apparently not,” Bertha Cool said placidly. “All right, if you want to go, we’ll go.”
We went down and climbed in the agency car again. I said, “Well, I might as well go to a picture show and kill time that way. Do you want to go?”
“Hell, lover. Bertha’s tired. She’ll just go to her apartment and get her clothes off and read a book.”
I drove her to her apartment. She got out and put a jeweled hand on my left arm. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s all right,” I told her. “The jane didn’t call up. I guess she must have called while we were out, and probably some other guy was waiting to begin where I left off.”
“Oh, well, Donald, there are lots of women. A young, good-looking boy like you won’t have any trouble on that score. Good night.”
“Good night,” I said.
I turned the agency car and made time back to the office. I looked at my wrist watch. I’d only been gone twenty-five minutes in all. I hoped Marian hadn’t called in during that time.
I sprawled out in a chair and was just lighting a cigarette when I heard the sound of a key in the lock of the door. I thought it was the janitor and called out, “We’re busy. Let it go until tomorrow, will, you, please?”