“You’ll have to entertain them by yourself,” warned Wilfred. “I won’t stay!”
“Oh, to Hell with it, then!” said Joe, disgruntled.
When the waiter came, Joe asked for their bill. Wilfred insisted on paying for half the drinks, taking care to conceal from Joe how thinly his wallet was lined. They left the café in silence. On the pavement outside, Joe signalled for a cab, and Wilfred stiffly bade him good-bye.
Joe, grinning sideways at Wilfred, caught hold of his arm. “Wait a minute, fellow!”
Wilfred read that grin perfectly. His thoughts were bitter.
“Come along with me,” Joe said. “I’m going up to see my girl—my steady girl I mean. Been going with her five years. Almost like an old married pair.”
“Sorry, I can’t,” said Wilfred. “Some other time. . . .”
“Aw, come on. This is just a social call. She’s a peach of a looker. She’ll put you at your ease. . . .”
Wilfred detached his arm. “Sorry, I can’t,” he said. “Good-bye.”
Joe, one foot on the step of the cab, called after him: “Say, Kid, it’s time you grew up!”