He was suddenly terribly, terribly glad that the kid was going to die. He hated himself for feeling that way, but it would mean that he could start again from scratch.
George sat back in the chair with a little sigh. He said, “You’re a swell guy taking it like that.”
They sat there for a long time in silence. The more Alfy thought about it, the more eager he was for Margie to get well so that they could start things properly. Maybe it would be fun having a kid. Maybe, if he worked hard enough, he could keep the boat and the three of them could go up the river together. Even George could come along. No, not George. It was a pity about George, but he couldn’t be around any more. Not that he’d mind, but Margie would. No, George would have to go, but the little ’un would take his place.
The door opened and the doctor came in. The two men looked at him. His face was expressionless. He said: “I’m afraid things have gone wrong. She didn’t try.” The nerve in his face continued to twitch. “She was very disappointed, you see.”
Alfy got slowly to his feet. “Won’t she—?”
The doctor shrugged a little. “Not long now. She’s asking—”
Alfy made for the door, but the doctor stopped him. “Not you,” he said, almost kindly, “she’s asking for George.” He looked at George with faint curiosity. “You had better hurry.”
The two of them went out of the room quickly, leaving Alfy alone.
NIGHT OUT
Jason arrived at the Gaucho Club a few minutes before midnight. He stood hesitating on the sidewalk looking up at the brilliant array of neon lights that flashed and flickered on the outside of the building.