"It's the grown-up manifestation."
"Manifestation of what?"
"Put them in water while I get dressed," I said. "Of something you might learn—someday."
5
We had dinner together in the Knight's Bar.
She with one white orchid.
Jay received us with just the right look of appreciation for her—just the right glimmer for me. He was sorry such things happened, but he admired my taste.
The hotel staff, I knew, was by now vigorously discussing the matter. The girls who ran the elevators, the telephone girls, the room-service checkers, the cashiers, the waiters, the bellboys. Pros and cons:
He's an artist—and they're different. She's just another of those rich wives on the make. I bet you wish you were one, yourself, you hypocrite! Poor Mrs. Wylie! She's a nice, quiet girl and I'll bet he swept her off her feet—because that's what newspapermen and writers all are: chasers. Those quiet ones knock over more husbands than all the flashy jobs in town! We all do, if we get a chance. I don't blame either of them. I think both of them are stinkers. Whose business is it?