“Prove it? It will take years not to prove it. By that time the money will not be needed. Tear up the paper, Mr. Arden. You know as well as I do that it’s useless now. The poor fool killed himself, although he won the race…. Do you know why? Because he despised himself for marrying me. No man can treat me like that. I warned you, didn’t I, about the twist in the tale.” She laughed hysterically. “Don’t you think it’s lovely?”
I engaged the gears and drove away, leaving her still laughing.
CONVERSATION PIECE
He was very tall, thin and distinguished-looking. He had a close-clipped moustache, a square jaw and the hair on each side of his head was white.
He sat on a high stool at the ‘Roney Plaza’ bar, a cigarette between his thin lips and a glass of Scotch-and-soda at his elbow. Every now and then he would glance up and catch his reflection in the bright mirror behind the bar. He would look at himself and adjust the wings of his evening dress-tie with his well-shaped fingers, and once he adjusted the set of his coat.
People kept coming up to the bar, but he ignored them. Sometimes they glanced at him curiously, especially the women, but no one spoke to him. He had been in the bar several times during the week, and the habitues began to wonder who he was.
Manuel, the barman, had tried to discover who he was without success. Not that he wasn’t talkative, but that he steered the conversation away from any personal topic.
During a lull, Manuel came down the long bar towards him. He began polishing glasses. “Not much about tonight,” he said casually.
The tall, thin man agreed. “Why do you think that is?” he asked.
Manuel shrugged. “You can’t tell these days,” he said; “there is too much entertainment going on. People get too much amusement. They don’t know where to go next.”