“Good,” said the tall man. “That’s fine. What did you say your name was?”
“Richard Gordon.”
“Oh,” said the tall man. “What do you mean, ‘oh’?”
“Nothing,” said the tall man.
“Did you ever read the books?” Richard Gordon asked.
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you like them?”
“No,” said the tall man.
“Why?”
“I don’t like to say.”
“Go ahead.”
“I thought they were shit,” the tall man said and turned away.
“I guess this is my night,” said Richard Gordon. “This is my big night. What did you say you’d have?” he asked the red-headed Vet. “I’ve got two dollars left.”
“One beer,” said the red-headed man. “Listen, you’re my pal. I think your books are fine. To hell with that radical bastard.”
“You haven’t got a book with you?” asked the other Vet. “Pal, I’d like to read one. Did you ever write for
“Who is that tall bird?” asked Richard Gordon.
“I tell you he’s just a radical bastard,” said the second Vet. “The camp’s full of them. We’d run them out, but I tell you half the time most of the guys in camp can’t remember.”
“Can’t remember what?” asked the red-headed one.
“Can’t remember anything,” said the other.
“You see me?” asked the red-headed one.
“Yes,” said Richard Gordon.
“Would you guess I got the finest little wife in the world?”
“Why not?”
“Well, I have,” said the red-headed one. “And that girl is nuts about me. She’s like a slave. ‘Give me another cup of coffee,’ I say to her. ‘O.K., Pop,’ she says. And I get it. Anything else the same way. She’s carried away with me. If I got a whim, it’s her law.”
“Only where is she?” asked the other Vet.
“That’s it,” said the red-headed one. “That’s it, pal. Where is she?”
“He don’t know where she is,” the second Vet said.
“Not only that,” said the red-headed one. “I don’t know where I saw her last.”
“He don’t even know what country she’s in,”
“But listen, buddy,” said the red-headed one. “Wherever she is, that little girl is faithful.”
“That’s God’s truth,” said the other Vet. “You can stake your life on that.”
“Sometimes,” said the red-headed one, “I think that she is maybe Ginger Rogers and that she has gone into the moving pictures.”
“Why not?” said the other.
“Then again, I just see her waiting there quietly where I live.”
“Keeping the home fires burning,” said the other.
“That’s it,” said the red-headed one. “She’s the finest little woman in the world.”
“Listen,” said the other, “my old mother is O.K., too.”
“That’s right.”
“She’s dead,” said the second Vet. “Let’s not talk about her.”
“Aren’t you married, pal?” the red-headed Vet asked Richard Gordon.
“Sure,” he said. Down the bar, about four men away, he could see the red face, the blue eyes and sandy, beer-dewed mustache of Professor MacWalsey. Professor MacWalsey was looking straight ahead of him and as Richard Gordon watched he finished his glass of beer and, raising his lower lip, removed the foam from his mustache. Richard Gordon noticed how bright blue his eyes were.
As Richard Gordon watched him he felt a sick feeling in his chest. And he knew for the first time how a man feels when he looks at the man his wife is leaving him for.
“What’s the matter, pal?” asked the red-headed Vet.
“Nothing.”
“You don’t feel good. I can tell you feel bad.”
“No,” said Richard Gordon.
“You look like you seen a ghost.”
“You see that fellow down there with a mustache?” asked Richard Gordon.
“Him?”
“Yes.”
“What about him?” asked the second Vet.
“Nothing,” said Richard Gordon. “Goddamn it.
Nothing.”
“Is he a bother to you? We can cool him. The three of us can jump him and you can put the boots to him.”
“No,” said Richard Gordon. “It wouldn’t do any good.”
“We’ll get him when he goes outside,” the red- headed Vet said. “I don’t like the look of him. The son-of-a-bitch looks like a scab to me.”
“I hate him,” said Richard Gordon. “He’s ruined my life.”
“We’ll give him the works,” said the second Vet.
“The yellow rat. Listen Red, get a hold of a couple of bottles. We’ll beat him to death. Listen, when did he do it, pal? O.K. we have another one?”
“We’ve got a dollar and seventy cents,” Richard Gordon said.
“Maybe we better get a pint then,” the red- headed Vet said. “My teeth are floating now.”
“No,” said the other. “This beer is good for you. This is draft beer. Stick with the beer. Let’s go and beat this guy up and come back drink some more beer.”
“No. Leave him alone.”
“No, pal. Not us. You said that rat ruined your wife.”
“My life. Not my wife.”
“Jese! Pardon me. I’m sorry, pal.”
“He defaulted and ruined the bank,” the other Vet said. “I’ll bet there’s a reward for him. By God, I seen a picture of him at the post office today.”
“What were you doing at the post office?” asked the other suspiciously.
“Can’t I get a letter?”
“What’s the matter with getting letters at camp?”
“Do you think I went to the postal savings?”
“What were you doing in the post office?”
“I just stopped by.”
“Take that,” said his pal and swung on him as well as he could in the crowd.