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plained to the others what he'd done. One of the girls had worked for Normine at the Works and recognized both Maurice and me. Maurice seemed to gravitate to this group while I was attracted to the pair of maids with the drunken escort at the next table. We talked back and forth and they asked me to join them. The escort, though tight, was pleasant. He was tieless, his collar open, and needed a shave--looked like he might be a country boy. One of the girls reminded me strongly of Claudette Colbert, one of my favorites. I held back for a long time but the beer finally numbed my conscience enough for me to ask Claudette to dance--and she was a beautiful dancer. She said she was French. I knew I'd seen her somewhere with a waitress cap sitting above her black bangs. Her eyes sparkled. She wanted me to drink some of their gin. I had enough sense to refuse this. She tried very hard to win me over to her party but an inborn cautiousness in such matters restrained me. The other girl was coarse and swore without restraint. Since Maurice had deserted me, I finally sat with them for awhile and the tough girl held her hand on my knee. Claudette asked if we lived on the east or west side. I lied and told her the east. She seemed a trifle cooler after this but not much.  She said she lived on the west side.

Meanwhile Maurice was having a time with his companions. It developed they were from Ripley and the girls began to insist that they simply had to get home. It was getting late. Midnight or later. But the drunk Maurice was trying to revive--his name was Neil--was still too sick to go. So they reluctantly stayed on.  Unfortunate1y, they were all traveling in the drunk's car. Finally, however, as it got on toward 3 a.m., the girls said they had to get home somehow. So they took Neil's keys from him and headed for Ripley, the five of them, agreeing that someone would meet us in North East at 4:45 a.m. to collect Neil from us and take him home. After they'd left, we examined Neil again in Maurice's car. Neil gagged hollowly in his sleep. Then he trembled violently with a chill as he lay on the floor of the Buick. The Cave proprietor came out to look at him, worried, and wondered if he should call a doctor--the kid had been drinking raw alcohol straight. And long before this, I was getting desperately upset about Willie because I knew she must be getting concerned about me. However, I was afraid that if I phoned her I might wake her up and scare her terribly whereas if I didn't phone, she might well sleep until I got home and have no worries. I didn't know what to do. Maurice had gotten himself so involved with the Ripley kids, there was no withdrawing from that and it seemed doubtful that I could even get a cab way out in the country at this dive at 4 a.m. The upshot of it was that I did nothing but hope we'd get home before Willie was aware I hadn't gotten home yet. It was one of the most miserable situations I'd ever been in and I really sweat blood over the predicament, not for myself, but for Willie. I was absolutely nonplussed as to what I should do.