No fooling here. "Hello, Jessie."

As she mopped the slab in front of him you noticed a slight softening of
her features, intent so grimly on her task. "What's yours?"

"Bacon-and-egg sandwich. Glass of milk. Piece of pie. Blueberry."

Ordinarily she would not have bothered. But with him: "The blueberry
ain't so good to-day, I noticed. Try the peach?"

"All right." He looked at her. She smiled. Incredibly, the dishes
ordered seemed to leap out at her from nowhere. She crashed them down on
the glazed white surface in front of him. The bacon-and-egg sandwich was
served open-faced, an elaborate confection. Two slices of white bread,
side by side. On one reposed a fried egg, hard, golden, delectable,
indigestible. On the other three crisp curls of bacon. The ordinary
order held two curls only. A dish so rich in calories as to make it food
sufficient for a day. Jessie knew nothing of calories, nor did Nick. She
placed a double order of butter before him--two yellow pats,
moisture-beaded. As she scooped up his milk from the can you saw that
the glass was but three quarters filled. From a deep crock she ladled a
smaller scoop and filled the glass to the top. The deep crock held
cream. Nick glanced up at her again. Again Jessie smiled. A plain
damsel, Jessie, and capable. She went on about her business. What's
yours? Coffee with? White or rye? No nonsense about her. And yet: "Pie
all right?"

"Yeh. It's good."

She actually blushed.

He finished, swung himself off the stool, nodded to Jessie. She stacked
his dishes with one lean, capable hand, mopped the slab with the other,
but as she made for the kitchen she flung a glance at him over her
shoulder.

"Day off?"

"Yeh."

"Some folks has all the luck."

He grinned. His teeth were strong and white and even. He walked toward
the door with his light quick step, paused for a toothpick as he paid
his check, was out again into the July sunlight. Her face became dull
again.

Well, not one o'clock. Guessed he'd shoot a little pool. He dropped into
Moriarty's cigar store. It was called a cigar store because it dealt in
magazines, newspapers, soft drinks, golf balls, cigarettes, pool,
billiards, chocolates, chewing gum, and cigars. In the rear of the store
were four green-topped tables, three for pool and one for billiards. He
hung about aimlessly, watching the game at the one occupied table. The
players were slim young men like himself, their clothes replicas of his
own