She tucked the bill down the front of her dress. "May you have good luck, man," she said gravely.
As she said it, her eyes widened and her mouth hung open. "Gawd!" she muttered. "The black dog's follering you!" and fled.
"I know," I said to the room at large, and left without waiting for my drink.
[CHAPTER 32]
I walked down Lenox Avenue to the first cigar-store and telephoned the office.
As soon as I was connected with Arthurjean I asked her to meet me at her apartment as soon as she could make it. Then I hailed a cab and was driven south through Central Park to the upper east Fifties' and my secretary's apartment. She was waiting.
"Gee, honey," she exclaimed. "I just got here. What's cooking?"
I followed her in and went straight to the kitchenette. I poured myself a stiff drink and downed it rapidly. I poured myself another and turned to see her staring at me.
"You look terrible," she told me. "What's happened to you?"