“I’ve seen it. And him.” Scotty went on musingly, “Now, Eleanor never did okay my proposition exactly. But I felt she was interested in me. Seems not. No time for Smythes these days. She’s also taken to going places with that large charge of human barge known as Avalanche Billings.”
“A wholesome boy,” Duff said, not enthusiastically.
“In a nutshell, man, you’ve said it all! It’s not enough that his pappy is a brewer. His boy had to be an athlete too. Nearly All-American, you may have noticed. Avalanche is a clown — makes the girls laugh. Outside of rugged good looks— destined to become bloated as the years pass—”
“Very little,” Duff agreed.
“A cipher. A zero. A zed. What she sees in him—”
“Not even a convertible,” Duff murmured.
“Touché, pal!” Scotty chuckled dolefully. “You don’t sound so doggoned elated yourself.”
“Things are melancholy,” Duff agreed.
Scotty was silent. He finished his coffee. He eyed Duff for a while. “Speaking of beer and such,” he said, “and I was, by inference, a while back, are you a drinking man?”
“No,” Duff replied. “Not a matter of scruples. Purse. And lack of experience.”