After the meeting Joe O’Keefe walked whistling down Atlantic Avenue. It was a crisp night; he was walking on springs. There was a light in Dr. Gordon’s office. He rang. A whitefaced man in a white jacket opened the door.
“Hello Doc.”
“Is that you O’Keefe? Come on in my boy.” Something in the doctor’s voice clutched like a cold hand at his spine.
“Well did your test come out all right doc?”
“All right ... positive all right.”
“Christ.”
“Dont worry too much about it, my boy, we’ll fix you up in a few months.”
“Months.”
“Why at a conservative estimate fiftyfive percent of the people you meet on the street have a syphilitic taint.”
“It’s not as if I’d been a damn fool. I was careful over there.”