Free Manhattan Transfer by John Dos Passos Page A

little thin shoulders.
    ‘But honest Georgy, we’ve got to be careful. You mustn’t comehere so often. I don’t want all the old hens in the house to start talkin.’
    ‘Don’t worry about that… We mustn’t worry about anything.’
    ‘I’ve been actin’ like I was crazy this last week… I’ve got to quit.’
    ‘You dont think I’ve been acting naturally, do you? I swear to God Nellie I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m not that kind of a person.’
    She showed her even teeth in a laugh. ‘Oh you kin never tell about men.’
    ‘But if it weren’t something extraordinary and exceptional you dont think I’d be running after you this way do you? I’ve never been in love with anybody but you Nellie.’
    ‘That’s a good one.’
    ‘But it’s true… I’ve never gone in for that sort of thing. I’ve worked too hard getting through lawschool and all that to have time for girls.’
    ‘Makin up for lost time I should say.’
    ‘Oh Nellie dont talk like that.’
    ‘But honestly Georgy I’ve got to cut this stuff out. What’ll we do when Gus comes out of the hospital? An I’m neglectin the kid an everythin.’
    ‘Christ I dont care what happens… Oh Nellie.’ He pulled her face round. They clung to each other swaying, mouths furiously mingling.
    ‘Look out we almost had the lamp over.’
    ‘God you’re wonderful, Nellie.’ Her head had dropped on his chest, he could feel the pungence of her tumbled hair all through him. It was dark. Snakes of light from the streetlamp wound greenly about them. Her eyes looked up into his frighteningly solemnly black.
    ‘Look Nellie lets go in the other room,’ he whispered in a tiny trembling voice.
    ‘Baby’s in there.’
    They stood apart with cold hands looking at each other. ‘Come here an help me. I’ll move the cradle in here… Careful not to wake her or she’ll bawl her head off.’ Her voice crackled huskily.
    The baby was asleep, her little rubbery face tight closed, minute pink fists clenched on the coverlet.
    ‘She looks happy,’ he said with a forced titter.
    ‘Keep quiet cant you… Here take yer shoes off… There’s been enough trampin o men’s shoes up here… Georgy I wouldn’t do this, but I juss cant help…’
    He fumbled for her in the dark. ‘You darling…’ Clumsy he brooded over her, breathing crazily deep.
    ‘Flatfoot you’re stringin us…’
    ‘I aint, honest I’d swear by me muder’s grave it’s de trutt… Latitude toityseven soutt by twelve west… You go dere an see… On dat island we made in de second officer’s boat when de
Elliot P. Simkins
foundered der was four males and fortyseven females includin women an children. Waren’t it me dat tole de reporter guy all about it an it came out in all de Sunday papers?’
    ‘But Flatfoot how the hell did they ever get you away from there?’
    ‘Dey carried me off on a stretcher or I’m a cockeyed Iyer. I’ll be a sonofabitch if I warnt founderin, goin down by de bows like de ole
Elliot P
.’
    Heads tossed back on thick necks let out volleys of laughter, glasses were banged on the round ringmarked table, thighs resounded with slaps, elbows were poked into ribs.
    ‘An how many guys was in de boat?’
    ‘Six includin Mr Dorkins de second officer.’
    ‘Seven and four makes eleven… Jez… Four an three-elevenths broads per capita… Some island.’
    ‘When does the next ferry leave?’
    ‘Better have another drink on that… Hay Charlie fill ’em up.’
    Emile pulled at Congo’s elbow. ‘Come outside a sec, J’ai que’-quechose à te dire.’ Congo’s eyes were wet, he staggered a little as he followed Emile into the outer bar. ‘O le p’tit mysterieux.’
    ‘Look here, I’ve got to go call on a lady friend.’
    ‘Oh that’s what’s eating you is it? I always said you was a wise guy Emile.’
    ‘Look, here’s my address on a piece of paper in case you forget it: 945 West 22nd. You can come and sleep there if you’re not too