Another burden of reticence was snatched away. At last Peter had a chance to tell somebody about the bandages.
"I was with a woman up at the Eldorado. You know the Eldorado. And a big fellow comes over and tries to butt in. I bawled him out and we went up on the sidewalk. I made a couple of passes at him and he hauled off and clipped me with a bottle—a champagne bottle. I guess I was pretty drunk."
Charlie Hall nodded his head. "You're all right. I'm glad. Some of the boys around here have been telling me that you were all busted up about that girl you married. I'm glad it's not so. I knew you had too much sense for that. There isn't a one of them in the whole world that's worth getting busted up over. Don't take 'em seriously. That's what I say. I ought to know. I've been married fifteen years. Well, almost fifteen years. It'll be fifteen years in October."
"I'm all right, Charlie. You tell that to the rest. I'm back on the job, you know."
"That's good. It wouldn't seem like the Bulletin without you."
Charlie turned to the story in front of him and put one second of energy into pounding the space bar before coming back to conversation.
"Where is this Eldorado?" he asked.
"Fiftieth Street and Seventh Avenue."
"Does it stay open all night?"
"Well, it's open all night but after one there's a man on the door and he won't let you in unless he knows you."