“It always is hot over here on Lexington Avenue—Jerusalem Avenue, I call it, on account of the number of Jews that live over here. Pretty good name for it, don't you think so?”
“Quite good, yes,” he assented.
“But over where we live, it's much cooler. Have a breeze there most all the time.”
“Ah, where is that?”
“Beekman Place—clear down on the edge of the river. Number 57. Be happy to have you call on us there. We—mamma and I—we live with my uncle and aunt, the Sternbergs. It's fearfully out of the way, but it's grand when you get there.”
“Yes, I've heard so,” Elias said.
“Musical, Mr. Bacharach?” she inquired.
“Well, I don't know. I'm very fond of music.”
“Sing?”
“No.”