"Nobody else—?"
"Christ, no. They think she's a working gal—which she is, now: a nice friend of mine."
"Someday—" I stopped there—again.
"Yes." His face whitened. "A putty-chinned, overweight lodge brother from Keokuk, just tight enough to miss the stony stare and come up with the big hello. It's happened."
"I see."
"She went home and had hysterics."
"Bring her over."
Paul looked at me thoughtfully. "You are upset."
"Sure. Now. You are. So bring her over. Not tonight—or tomorrow night. I'm busy."
"What about lunch tomorrow? She's not working and I can slide out."