"The superbeast versus the superman," I commented. "Your mind is made up then—irrevocably?"
"Yes."
I had not known Jerry all these years for nothing. I shrugged my shoulders and sank into my chair again. "Then, of course, there's nothing for it but to try to keep the thing out of the papers."
He took up his hat and stick gayly. "Oh, they'll never guess in the world. When I go down to Flynn's I get into an old suit Christopher got for me down on Seventh Avenue—a hand-me-down, and when Marcia goes she wears—"
"Ah—Marcia goes—?"
"Oh, yes, sometimes in the afternoons. She wears the worst-looking things—her maid got 'em somewhere. She watches me work. They call her my 'steady.' It's great sport. She's having more fun than she ever had before in her life, she says. I'd like you to run down this afternoon. You know the place. It will liven up your dry bones. Come along, will you?"
"Perhaps," I said helplessly, looking out of the window.