x!"

"Come, come, now, I'm tired, girl, and got to stop off at Lenox Avenue
to-night after I leave here. Where's your clock around here, anyways, so
a fellow knows where he's at?"

"There it is under the pillow next to you, Max. I smothered it because
it gets on my nerves all day. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, right
into my head like it was saying all the time: 'Oh-Mae! Oh-Mae! Oh-Mae!'
till I nearly go crazy, Max. Tick-tock--God! it--it just gets me!"

He reached for the small onyx clock, placing it upright on the mantel,
and shrugged his shoulders loosely.

"Gad!" he said, "you wimmin! Crazy as loons, all of you and your kind.
Come, come, get down to brass tacks, girl. I'm tired and gotta get
home."

"Home, Max?"

"Yes, home!"

"Max, ain't--ain't this home no more, ain't it?"

He leaned forward, an elbow on each knee and striking his left hand
solidly into his right palm. "Now if that's the line of talk you got me
up here for, girl, you can cut it and cut it quick!"

"No, no, Max, it ain't my line of talk. Here, sit down, dearie, in your
own chair and I'll go and dish up."

"Where's Loo?"

"Her night off, poor girl. Four nights straight she's rubbed my head
and--"

"Where's my--"

"Right here, dearie, is your box of pills, underneath your napkin.
There, dearie! See? Just like always."

She was full of small movements that were quick as grace notes: pinning
the black lace train up and about her hips; drawing out his chair;
darting with the scarcely perceptible limp down the narrow hall, back
with dishes that exuded aromatic steam; placing them with deft, sure
fingers. Once she paused in her haste, edged up to where he stood
with one arm resting on the mantelpiece, placed an arm on each of his
shoulders and let her hands dangle loose-wristed down his back.

"Tired boy, to-night! Huh? Maizie's poor tired boy!"

"Now, now!"

He removed her hands, but gently, and strolled over to where the table
lay spread beside the cold, gilded radiator, a potted geranium in its
center, a liberal display of showy imitation pearl-handled cutlery
carefully laid out, and at each place a long-stemmed wineglass,
gold-edged and the color of amber.

"Come," he said, "let's eat and get it over."

She made no sign, but with the corners of her lips propped bravely
upward in her too red smile made a last hurried foray into the kitchen,
returning with a covered vegetable-dish held outright from her.

"Guess!" she cried