f anything to say, Max, except I--I thought maybe
you'd tell me what's eating you, dearie."

"I--"

"After all these years we been together, Max, so--so happy, all of a
sudden, dear, these last two months dropping off from every other night
to--to twice a week and then to--to once, and this last week--not at
all. I--I--heavens above, Max, I 'ain't got nothing to say except what's
got you. Tell me, dearie, is it anything I've done? Is it--"

"You talk like a loon, Mae, honest you do. You 'ain't done nothing.
It's just that the--the time's come, that's all. You know it had to. It
always has to. If you don't know it, a woman like--like you ought to.
Gad! I used to think you was the kind would break as clean as a whistle
when the time came to break."

"Break, Max?"

"Yes, break. And don't gimme the baby-stare like that, neither. You know
what I mean alrighty. You wasn't born yesterday, old girl!"

The blood ran from her face, blanching it. "You mean, Max--"

"Aw, you know what I mean alrighty, Mae, only you ain't sport enough to
take things as they come. You knew all these years it had to come sooner
or later. I 'ain't never quizzed into your old life, but if you didn't
learn that, you--well you ought to. There never was a New Year came in,
Mae, that I didn't tell you that, if you got the chance, for you to go
out after better business. I never stood in your light or made no bones
about nothing!"

"My God! Max, you--you're kidding!"

"All these years I been preaching to you, even before I joined
Forest Park Club out there. 'Don't get soft, Mae. Keep down. Use the
dumb-bells. Hustle around and do a little housework even if I do give
you a servant. Walk in the park. Keep your looks, girl; you may need
'em,' I used to tell you."

"Oh you--You!--"

She clapped her hands over her mouth as if to stanch hysteria.

"Another let-out like that, Mae, and, by gad! I'll take my hat and--"

"No, no, Max, I--I didn't mean it. I'm all right. I--Only after all
these years you wouldn't do it, Max. You wouldn't. You wouldn't throw me
over and leave me cold, Max. What can I do after all these years? I--I
'ain't got a show in a chorus no more. You're kidding, Max. You're a
white man, Max, and--you--you wouldn't do it, Max. You wouldn't. You--"

"Now, now, you can't say I 'ain't been as white as silk, girl, and I'm
going to be just as white as I've been, too. Don't worry, girl. For six
years there 'ain't been a better-stocked fl