“No.”
“Well, just read it. Some colored fanatics want social equality with the whites, repeal of all laws prohibiting intermarriage of blacks and whites and junk like that.”
“Well, if we had them down in Corinth we’d know how to fix ’em.”
“I’ll say you would!”
They shook hands warmly.
“You probably want to be alone tonight, but any time you’re lonely—you know, just give me a ring.”
“All right.”
Robert stuck the paper in his pocket and left.
He got another cinder in his eye returning to the hotel, and found his room lonesome and noisy. Two blocks away a skyscraper was being erected and the continual rat-a-tat of the riveters, like the bullets of machine guns, mingled with the repeated blasts of patrolmen’s whistles, the noise of hundreds of vehicles and of thousands of human beings. His nostrils were filled with fine particles of coal and dust. Robert was lonesome and wondered why he had refused Freeman’s invitation. Of course, there were letters to write and booklets to read, but then it was only a little after four and he would have all evening for that.
Because it was the thing he least wished to do, he decided to write Margaret first of all. His fountain pen was dry and the ink well in the combination table and desk held only some black powder and a dead fly. He telephoned to the desk and while waiting for the ink idly looked through the telephone directory. The advertisements. The Hamiltons. The M’s. He was conscious that his heart was beating unusually fast. But there were so many Meadows that it was impossible even to guess which might be the right one. He telephoned to Levin’s home again, leaving his name and telephone number.